Part One: Beautiful and Cruel
I traveled recently to a foreign place--foreign to me, anyway--a random place, not particular in my choosing, and not a destination but a stepping stone along the way to a destination I could not have chosen--allow me to explain.
As many of you know, I've been writing for Unseen World, the finest collaboration of travel bloggers in the known e-universe, for almost five years now, and I wanted to do a special piece, on some special place, for the upcoming anniversary installment of my blog. If you're new here, thank you for joining. I'm an experienced survivalist, an outdoor enthusiast, and a mediocre writer.
Returning readers know the usual routine--Editor Joan insists that I never go alone, so she hires a "tracker" or "guide" to assist me, and the first part of my journal starts with me ditching my plus-one and heading out solo, as planned. This trip was different. Editor Joan didn't even know I was going until I was already gone, so instead of beginning with me giving some local woodsman the slip, I'm sharing a bit more about how I prepared for this adventure--I know, the reason you like my blog even more than all the other UW bloggers is because I don't bore you with the mundane details, but trust me, it's relevant. Don't skip ahead or you'll miss it.
Making a living as a travel-blogger, particularly as a survivalist, demands a certain commitment to education before the trip. Fortunately, history enthralls me, so my enthusiasm for local legend and lore feeds that commitment well. I know what you're thinking: where did you go? Friends, complain all you want in the comments, but don't bother emailing me. All I will say is, it is a land not lacking in lore. Seriously, please, don't ask--for the sake of everyone reading, I will never disclose the location because, along with treasure and beauty and glory and adventure, death and ruin almost certainly await those who journey here. I'm Graeson Reid, and this is Half the Fun.
Now, this is where I would normally compile an inventory list of all the equipment I brought along--the section I call "Pack and Pockets." But something strange happened this time. I had my equipment prepared, my gadgets and gizmos aligned, my pockets full... and all at once it dawned on me: to leave it all behind.
Also, past journeys to unknown destinations always began tainted. I’d choose places to which I’d never been, but always having some allure--Monaco, Milan, Rio, Beijing--then I’d prepare, properly, for conditions I knew I’d face. I’d find a clearing, look around, and choose a direction which surely offered the challenges for which I’d prepared. This journey... would be different. Not only would I be purposely unprepared for what challenges lied ahead, but I would also choose an unbiased direction by refusing to look around for... anything.
Away from the structures and streets and mankind's mayhem, I stepped into an openness--I won’t call it a clearing--and lulled myself into a state of oblivion. Clear the mind. Eyes shut and covered with my hands, I turned in circles, moving my head up and down, alternating my gait, disorienting myself. I uttered a low and constant hum to dissuade my ears from trying to locate myself. So committed to choosing a direction as random as chance itself, I spun and spun, and spun even more--to the point that I thought another turn would surely topple me. In honesty, the reason I was still spinning was because I genuinely feared choosing a direction... so I stopped.
Well, I stopped, but my head was still a hopeless whirlwind, anchored only by uneasy shoulders. Kneeling down to steady myself, only patience would help restore me. I looked down to be sure--to confirm the dizziness had subsided. The storm in my head had calmed.
With my rational thought almost fully restored, I pointed with my left arm, behind me, as far as I could reach without turning. I had chosen and, with that random choice, I began my contribution to what future travelers would learn about when they investigated local lore.
I turned to look, uphill, the horizon no more than a kilometer away toward the morning sun still climbing from the Earth. It was hard to clearly see, but I was quite certain, in the distance, I could see three small structures--houses perhaps--that I hadn’t noticed before. Deciding I’d spent enough time spinning and kneeling, I stood again and walked toward them.
Outcroppings of enormous boulders surrounded them, and an army of trees flanked them on the horizon. A bit closer, I resolved in my mind that they were definitely structures--not mounds or bushy trees playing tricks on my eyes. Side-stepping occasional bushes and weeds kept me from a direct approach; however, stepping around one larger bit of growth, I lost sight of the structures completely. They were gone. Or were they? I took a few steps back, into the line of sight I’d had before circumventing the bushes. Like a mirage materializing on a desert floor, the buildings reappeared, as if hidden by a fold in space somewhere between us. Testing my vision, I bobbed my head side-to-side and watched them disappear and reappear, as if I were standing on a threshold into another universe. A strange phenomenon, for sure, and perhaps if I’d had more time, I would have contemplated it longer, but I resolved not to lose myself simply determining whether or not something was even there--in time, I would find out for myself.
Closer still, but not there yet, I saw they were old and weathered, left behind by those who knew them best, and abandoned by those who knew them not. Excellent, I thought. The sun was higher in the morning sky, but even with better visibility, the buildings seemed to slip away. I dared not wander too far off track. Despite the inevitable obstacles, something inside me was insisting: until I reach them, I should never let them out of sight. I wondered what relics, treasures, or secrets they might reveal, but let's face it, I'd been in similar structures before, and although their history may be plentiful, any clues to their mysteries were typically lost to those who had come before, absconding with anything that might have disclosed the buildings' purposes or worth. Nonetheless, whenever we happen upon one, do we not always go inside?
I came to the first building--the largest of the three. There's something magical about places such as these. Eyes closed... you can smell the history. Well-worn floors, with every creak, echo footsteps tread lifetimes ago. Thin vines had invaded, seeking something better inside, eventually taking their place among the other beings that had found a fine place to die. Not a bit of furniture or furnishings inside, as predicted.
The roof of the second building had partially collapsed. It was treacherous to walk atop the fallen lumber, so I skipped whatever treasures may have lain beneath and went on toward the third, but I didn't go inside because something caught my eye. The army of trees that had shaped the horizon was now before me, and as I'd guessed, they marked a stream running through the gentle hills with their out-of-place boulders strewn about haphazardly--a geological wonder that surely perplexed generations before the power of volcanoes was clearly understood. Among the trees, closer to the stream, I saw something also out-of-place. It looked like a street lamp--a sturdy base, tall, slender pole, and... the top was obscured by low-hanging branches. I thought to revisit it after I'd investigated the third building, but with things around here disappearing in the blink of an eye, I made a bee-line for it while I had it in view.
Not a street lamp, but a signpost, revealed itself there among the trees--remarkably antique and weathered. An ancient post held ancient wooden flags pointing to ancient destinations. Some had fallen off and lay deteriorated at my feet. Looking up, I tried to read the words carved into the flags, but time had rendered all but one, regretfully, illegible. Apparently, the town of Salvation was somewhere to the east. Interestingly, every town along the way seemed to lie eastward, as if I were standing at the farthest western location on a trail of ancient ghost towns. The trail, itself, seemed invisible to anyone who wasn't already on it. Every location, still attached or fallen at my feet, seemed to be... simply... on the way to the next. This is perfect! A quest had begun to take form in my mind--seeking out the fate of those who lived among the structures abandoned by their posterity. I hadn't any notion of distance, nor destination, but there was no question which direction to go and... isn't the journey into the unknown kind of what this whole thing is all about? I could see the title: On the Road to Salvation.
Heading east; my adventure into the unknown had officially taken its first twist. If only I'd thought to look at the flags in the same way I'd looked at the buildings earlier--they'd been as clear as day, but I'd hastily set out. Just a slight glance, with the proper tilt, I would have read the names. I would have been prepared, at least mentally, for what stops along my journey lay ahead.
Meandering alongside the stream, the path kept my mind from wandering. I wondered if its novelty would ever wear off if one opted to stay. A good outdoorsman could certainly live comfortably in such a place--building materials, fresh water, I'd even stopped to collect a few wild gooseberries along the way. I walked for hours--all day, in fact. As dusk approached, shelter became my priority. Warm, dry weather meant a simple lean-to would suffice. Among plentiful trees and thick foliage, I bent down to grab another stick and noticed a human footprint in the soft dirt--a bare foot.
My thoughts were everywhere, developing plausible reasons that someone might be traveling the same paths as I, but... barefoot? I might have gone on for quite a while if not for the rustling of branches to my left. I sharpened my eyes on the depths of trees and undergrowth, then another rustling behind me. I spun 'round to see the same nothing as before.
"Hello?" I called out, hoping for a response. None came, but no more rustling either. I might have dismissed it as an animal--perhaps a rabbit--but for the footprint. It was small enough. I admit, I was probably less concerned than if it had been a full-size foot.
Nonetheless, I had a shelter to construct and clearly, if it was a human watching me, there was no desire to make my acquaintance.
Once my simple structure was complete, I set to gather more downed bits for my campfire, once again considering the tale of Prometheus stealing fire from the gods to share with man. Whatever had spooked me earlier hadn't stuck around. I'd been theorizing how old the footprint might have been, figuring for rainfall and such. I won't say it was at the back of my mind, but it definitely wasn't at the front. I'd seen a nice log for burning while I was scrounging for materials earlier, and I was on the hunt for it again. Sans Ariadne's thread, one has to be mindful of landmarks when traipsing through wooded areas... and labyrinths. I found the log I'd been looking for, and noticed the stump from which it had broken still standing a full meter or so tall at the break. Lightning, I suspected, had been its demise. The upper edges were charred black in contrast to the red hair hiding, poorly, behind it.
I kept a peripheral eye on the hair as I continued to collect pieces of wood for my campfire-to-be. Purposely delaying the gathering, waiting to get a glimpse of the watcher, I had my suspicions. I'll admit, I was excited. I'd read about it, but could it be? Depleted of patience, and unnerved by the unknown, I opted to abandon my bundle, there on the ground, and walk directly to the tuft of hair to confront whatever mysteriously shy guest existed underneath it. I walked right up to the charred stump and looked down over top of it.
It was a girl--asleep against the stump, and more importantly, naked as the day she was born. Embarrassed for her, I stepped back to give her space. At her sight, I lost myself--as if everything I knew of this place suddenly washed away and stood there, stupid. What in the world was she doing out in the woods, butt-naked, and sleeping out in the open? I had no clue what to do. I couldn't just leave her, but what's the proper etiquette for these circumstances?
I decided to forego the lean-to and get a fire going right there. If she awoke to find a warm fire, perhaps she'd be inclined to stick around, and it might keep the predators from making a meal of her in the night. A thin, flannel coat was all I had to offer her. I hung it on the side of the stump where she could easily find it, then settled in for a few gooseberries and a crackling fireside nap.
By the time I woke up, the flames had become embers. It was night. When I realized where I was, I jerked up and looked toward the stump. The flannel coat was gone. Flagrant rustling in the trees behind me--I wheeled around, still groggy, but agile enough to get onto one knee. More rustling to my left... and more in front of me--scurrying around an invisible perimeter. Whatever they were had clearly scared away the watcher. I heard something charging closer. Still I saw nothing but darkness. I instinctively tumbled backward, over and through the coals, sending sparks from embers soaring like spirits freed from the fire. The eyes. They revealed the wolf before its form--glowing a blue-grey through bright orange sparks. I grabbed a small stick with a glowing tip--a sad weapon, but better than nothing. A chorus of growls from an anxious pack followed the alpha's lead. I could smell them. More blue-grey orbs flanked the leader.
"Morach! Nya!" a stern, woman's voice called, "Nya peyta!"
The wolves stopped--their eyes turned to my right. Scampering to my feet, I firmly held the flimsy, smoldering stick because it was the only thing that still made sense. The voice belonged to another woman--also long red hair--also naked, head to toe.
"They will not harm you," she said confidently as four more young women emerged from the woods, "and neither will we."
Every hair on my body was raised. None of it seemed like it could possibly be real. Adrenaline coursed through me like lightning. Her eyes glanced down at the feeble stick I held. I dropped it into the fire as if were pure evil. A weapon, even as futile as a charred stick, seemed an abomination in their presence. But the wolves... they obeyed this woman before their own primal hunger. I thought, I must be dreaming... or dead.
"What is this? Who are you?" I demanded.
"I am Taenope. You have come into the Nesh seeking fortune?"
"No, I'm not seeking anything, really. The wolves obey you. How?"
"They do not obey me, they simply understand me, as I understand them."
"Okay... I'm not sure what that means, but thank you for stopping them. They would have torn me apart... though not without a fight."
"You are no more their enemy than the fallen tree is yours--it is a means to survival."
"Okay, I guess I understand that. What are you doing out here... all of you?"
"We live here. This is our home. What are you doing here?"
"I was heading to a town... though I'm not sure it still exists."
"Thessyna will show you the way if you wish."
"Thessyna?"
"My daughter... you presented her with a gift without knowing her name. For this act of selflessness, it is our tradition that she must do for you whatever you ask."
I felt a warm presence, like a heat lamp, behind me. I turned to see the girl--she was the one who was sleeping before--wearing my flannel coat as she approached humbly. I was stricken by her beauty, I won't lie, but she was so out of place. She looked familiar, like a young woman I'd seen outside the hotel where I'd stayed before the journey began, though her hair was much longer and red. I turned back slowly, saying, "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not in need of..."
The woman was gone, as were the others. Thessyna was the only one remaining. I spun around to try to catch a glimpse of their retreat, but there was nothing--nothing at all. I turned back to the girl. She walked to me without hesitation. The warmth she emanated could not be explained by any logic, or even hypothesized by pure conjecture--it was magical if it was anything.
"Thessyna," I said calmly.
"And may I know your name?" she asked.
"Graeson Reid," I said, caught in her eyes like a snare, "How old are you?" I asked.
"I don't know. You're a human?"
"What? Yes, I'm a human. What do you mean, you 'don't know'?"
"We don't really keep track of things like that."
I rubbed my temples in mild frustration. Purely from her appearance, I'd say she was in her early twenties, but something about her told me she was... let's just say, older.
"Please... let me," she said, reaching for my head with both hands.
The sensation of her touch was as inexplicable as the radiating warmth of her approach. Her fingers were medicine--healing pains I didn't even realize I had. My eyes closed in complete relaxation, my shoulders sagged at my sides, my hands tingled with energy unknown to them. My eyes fluttered open as I let the old breath out of new lungs. Her eyes were soft and clear, lips parted as if begging for contact. I blinked away the notion. She was young and beautiful, but too young... and too beautiful, as I suspected. I gently took her wrists and brought them down to her sides. The blissful moment was over.
"What... what did she mean by, your tradition?"
"It is a rare thing--a traveler giving something valuable to a perfect stranger. The gesture requires repayment."
"But to commit to doing whatever someone asks... that seems... potentially dangerous."
"Luckily, it doesn't happen very often," she giggled, "and those who give out of goodness rarely ask out of malice."
"You sure don't talk like a young girl. May I ask... how old are you?"
She ignored the question, "Come on," she said as she began to walk away.
"Where? Where are we going?" I asked, following along almost involuntarily.
"The tradition states I must do whatever you want."
"Yes, I understand that, but where are you taking me?" I asked.
Looking over her shoulder at me, she replied coyly, "I'm going to show you what you want."
Well, my journey certainly took an unexpected turn. I didn't know where she was leading, but I was surely following. Dark forest--moonlight managed to break through on occasion, casting light upon the twisting Contorted Beech trees--aptly named--gnarled limbs, arms and fingers caught in the throes of anguish, knots freezing faces of horror forever in sylvan screams. They spoke to me... flooded me with terrific tales, warning me of ancient truths--I understood them. Thessyna took my hand, breaking the hypnotic snare I'd tripped beneath the boughs. A good thing, too--a bizarre feeling of dread and... pity had crept in. I felt as if I could have stayed beneath the branches of one particular Beech, simply staring at its stems until death came to relieve me--and for my sake, that's exactly what it wanted.
"Just through here," she said, pushing away the sullen branches of the last Contorted Beech.
Words can hardly describe the utopian landscape beyond the trees. Sunrise was not far off. It wasn't the best time of day to behold the full display, but there was certainly enough light to know it was an untouched Edin--lush green as far as I could see, hills rising in the near distance, mountains far beyond. The sky glowed in the east, where another stream flowed from a small, clear pond, grey boulders of all sizes helping to guide its path. A grassy clearing became visible with rays of morning sunlight peering in through guardians of massive oaks and towering pines.
Thessyna led me to a large, flat, ash grey boulder, crawling onto it, lying down, facing me. She threw her arms over her head, my coat flaying out beneath her. "Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"
Even in this paradise, I found it nearly impossible to take my eyes off of her, "Yes, I think that's a fair statement."
"Are you cold?"
It was a leading question. I couldn't help but think, though... I should be cold. "Actually, no," I said, thinking myself in full command, yet playing perfectly into her plan.
She raised a hand toward me. I couldn't tell if I was being pulled forward or being pushed from behind. I felt myself drawn closer. I took her hand and felt the intense medicating warmth again as she sat up, her eyes peering up at mine. I felt ensnared by her, like any semblance of self-control was being swept away by currents under her control. Her expression turned to excitement--she could feel me giving in. Her eyes grew larger, her mouth wanton. She threw herself back again, teasing me, teasing herself, heaving in seduction, "Don't you wish you could stay with me here forever?"
My heart nearly beat right out of my chest, "This is happening," I thought. I literally just read about this two nights ago.
"It's your tradition," I remembered.
"Tradition," she repeated sensuously.
"You have to do... whatever I want," I recalled.
She looked deeply, seductively, into my eyes, "Anything."
I matched her gaze, "I want you..."
"Yesss..."
I felt as if I were reading written words on a page, "I want you to release the souls of the men trapped in the Nesh Forest trees."
"No!" Her eyes turned to fear.
I raised my voice, "I want you to relinquish them from their prisons."
"No! You mustn't!"
I roared--that the trees themselves would relish in my demands, "I want you to free their souls and let them find their way to wherever they belong!"
Gusts and torrents crashed through the trees. Paradise became a whirlwind, swirling with whisking leaves. Heavy mists hit like horizontal rain, harvested from the stream.
"No!" she cried, "No! Not my beautiful trees!"
I shouted above the gale force winds as she writhed on the massive stone--I recalled, perfectly, their lore--words came like providence to my voice, "By the sacred tradition of the Dryads, I command your compliance! For your wicked seduction and trickery, I demand the release of all your victims' souls! I want their captivity ended! I want their freedom restored! I want their pathways unimpeded! I want your sylvan prisons barren!"
From the howling forest, moans and cries of men in anguish grew even beyond the torrents. Branches on Beeches became fluid on the wind. Trapped souls of hapless travelers, wanderers, and thieves swirled overhead, escaping from the Beeches to take their places among their long-lost fathers, and in seconds...
... they were gone.
Thessyna lay helpless on the stone before me, her face hidden--beautiful and cruel.
"And lastly," I said, as the winds finally calmed, "I want my coat back."
She laid there, bested--a thousand years of seduction, sorcery, and treachery--undone in a single wish. Her hair was destroyed, garnished with grass and bits of dried leaves. Tears sullied what was, moments ago, sublime. This magical, mythical, beautiful creature...
What have I done?
She squeaked pitifully, "You took them from me."
My grandfather taught me long ago: what you've broken you must rebuild. I was engulfed in the moment. I spoke with reverence, confidence, and compassion, "Stand up, Thessyna." I gave her my hand. "I recognized your charm the moment I saw you. How could anyone not feel it to the depths of their bones? The unmatched beauty of the Dryad Nymphs is legendary throughout the world, and the care you take in overseeing the forests is as crucial as the forest itself. These trophies of men--of prisoners taken--you've lost nothing that was yours to keep. And be honest, is it so great an achievement, ensnaring the love and lust of lonely men with such irresistible allure? Accomplish the feat as a rotund, weathered sea hag, and for that a trophy you will truly deserve."
She cracked a smile beneath her defeat.
She was so small, so vulnerable--I felt like... I don't know... like a troll looming over her. I sat down on the boulder, looking away from her. "Play your game of cat and mouse if you must, but send your mouse on his way when he's beaten. Look there... you don't need them. You never did. Isn't the forest even more beautiful now, without the reminders of how simple simple men can be?"
"Perhaps... it is," she managed, taking a seat next to me. "But how will I remember them?"
"Perhaps you won't," I said sharply, "But isn't it vastly more important that they, instead, remember you? Truly, if I were to drink the gods' ambrosia and live to the end of days, I assure you, I would not require a reminder--some trinket--to remember this time with you. You have no idea how close I came to becoming your next backwoods Beech."
She smiled at that, "And I will remember you, for the forest is forever changed. I don't know what I will do if you say you won't stay--they're words I've not heard before."
She was still playing her game. "Let's try it and see what happens," I said, "There's a fair chance we'll still be the same. I sincerely hope you don't melt... or blow away. I'd love to learn more of your family's history--how the forests came under your care. Be honest, though--if I am no different from any other traveler in the woods, and it doesn't matter who fills these shoes, then don't ask me to stay with you. It won't make a difference how I answer if it doesn't matter who I am."
She stood and turned aside, biting her lip as she considered my words.
"Okay," she said in certainty, perhaps honest with a man for the first time in... ever. Stepping closer--not seductively or slyly--but cautiously and in earnest, "Will you stay with me here forever, Graeson Reid?" a desperate tear in her eye.
I smiled and took her hand, "Lovely Thessyna," I began, "Despite your beauty, playful and pure, despite temptation's promising allure... because of your sincerity, I can assure, you've never been more attractive than you are, in this moment, in all your life. I cannot stay with you here forever, but with your permission, I would be honored and grateful if I could stay with you this day."
She stood perplexed... torn. A kind of confidence accompanied this unprecedented rejection, "You said... no."
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know. I feel... something. I feel..."
"Three-dimensional?"
"Yes. That... that describes it perfectly. With each encounter, men and women both, have looked at me from top to bottom and side-to-side, but never considered to look within... though, to be honest, I never really looked, myself. I do feel three-dimensional," she agreed, "and terrible."
"Terrible?"
"Yes, terrible. I feel terrible for those men... I didn't care about them at all. I still don't care about them, to be honest, but I should have..." she held her head low, "I should not have done that to them."
"Or tried to add me to your collection."
"I'm sorry for that."
"There must not be many mosquitos around here," I said, transfixed on... transfixing things.
"Oh... yes, there are some around, I'm sure, but it's widely known in the insect kingdom... forest nymphs taste terrible."
It's not as if I didn't already know, but there was something reaffirming about hearing her say it out loud. I was actually talking to a nymph--a mythical, immortal being. She really didn't know how old she was. Thinking back on what I knew of Greek mythology--what I could remember--a part of me wanted to ask about some of the legends. I remember thinking that the tales would often include some sort of immediacy of love--how Hades fell immediately in love with what's-her-face... Persephone, and Eros fell immediately in love with Psyche, just in seeing her for the first time. It seemed so matter of fact; as if it were a commonplace occurrence... love at first sight. It may have seemed silly at the time, but I have to admit, every moment spent with Thessyna made my head a mess--I'm talking about a real train wreck. I decided to keep the conversation as modern as possible. Our shared love of nature created our contemporary common ground.
We spoke for hours as the sun made its way overhead. I helped her understand her newfound capacity for shame and remorse, and that they made her infinitely better--more complete. She knew about death, but had no appreciation for it. I forgave her, on behalf of the souls she'd kept captive. Eternity, to her, was no different from Tuesday.
Capturing souls wasn't an ability the nymphs wielded, it was more of a curse, whereby anyone who fell in love (at first sight) and wished to remain with them would immediately have that wish granted. The curse worked on the assumption that the obvious wish would always be to remain. Mine wasn't the first to run against the grain. A handful of frivolous desires and off-the-cuff aspirations had squelched the musings of this nymph or that through the centuries--wealth, beauty, youth, status to name a few--proving that vixens are not, for everyone, the strongest vice to test one's virtue.
She told me amazing stories about her family; one I found particularly fascinating, regarding forest fires--how the Dryads help guide the animals around the smoke and flames, how they nurture new growth after they've been extinguished, and how they unite to keep the flames from ever destroying their sacred groves.
Among their many routines, they make a point of studying languages by cleverly intermingling with nudists of different cultures. Thessyna has studied eleven contemporary languages and fourteen forgotten ones.
Being intimately familiar with the forest, she showed me which plants are safe for humans to eat regardless of taste--some requiring cooking, others which can be consumed raw. I learned how to harvest pine nuts and the best way to prepare termites, grasshoppers, and grubs. She taught me which parts of a stream are safe to drink from to avoid pathogens (a word she did not know).
"I think you just made that word up," she said playfully.
"Only if I'm not saying it right."
"Path-o-gens," she repeated.
"Exactly. Tiny little bugs and microorganisms that can make you sick."
"That's not at all why I thought we drank from these parts of the streams."
"Well, now you know," I said, as I skipped a stone across the water.
"How did you do that?!"
"Do what?"
"The stone! It just jumped off the water! Do it again!"
"You've lived here, in this place, for years and years and you're telling me you've never skipped a stone? No wonder there are so many perfect skipping stones lying around. Here, let me show you."
I picked up another stone and really put some heat on it. It skipped eight times before submitting to the water's grip.
She stood, mouth agape, slowly turning into a smile, "You're a sorcerer! That's how you were able to defy me! You used magic!"
"It's not magic, love, it's physics," I explained, smiling away my laughter, "Anyone can do it."
Having studied my second toss, Thessyna selected a rock and prepared for her first attempt.
"Hold on a minute, that's not going to work." She'd chosen a lovely stone--nearly black throughout with two white lightning strikes through it--but the shape was all wrong, like an egg. I put it in my pocket to break her concentration from it. "I'll hold onto this one. You need to look for a flat rock... like this one. You're going to hold it with your forefinger along its edge, then you'll flick your wrist, throwing it side-arm, like this. If the stone hits calm water on its flat bottom, it'll bounce off the water's surface."
"I can do that," she insisted.
"Of course you can."
She lined herself up with the water's edge, inched closer, turned a bit more sideways... she gave a practice swing, concentrating on her wrist-flicking... and she let it rip! What a beauty of a toss, skipping easily five times. She jumped with laughter and amazement. Now, if you've never seen a naked nymph jump for joy, I can tell you, it's... difficult to maintain eye contact.
"Did you see that?!"
"Ah... yes, yes I did."
"You have a rock in your pocket!"
My breath caught, my eyes stretched wide, "Uhh... yes! Yes I do!" I pulled the black egg out of my pocket, "Look at that rock! Isn't it something? We should look at this together for a minute."
She took the egg and admired it, tracing the streaks of white with her fingertips. Positioning herself in the sun, she held it in front of her bosom. "Look how the sunlight shines on them."
"This really isn't helping. Maybe we should..."
She turned and zipped the rock into the water. Not a single skip, just plunk... and gone.
"Come on!" she insisted, "Come swim with me."
"Are you nuts? The water's way too cold," I said. Then again, maybe that's a good thing.
I sat down and unlaced my boots, pulled off my socks, and wet my feet in the water. I was right about the water being cold and... about the other thing, too.
"Here, hold onto me."
I took her hand. Once again, the incredible warmth shot through me like electricity. Standing in the stream, I was immune to the water's chill. Each time I broke contact with her, the same electricity turned to an icy shock until I touched her again. It wasn't an unbearable cold at my feet, but the warmth provided by her touch was certainly preferred.
I had to admit, her constant state of total nudity made my shyness seem... childish. "Fine, I'll join you for a swim."
She knew the water well--where the shoal was too shallow, and where it was deep enough to dive. A quick dip salvaged her wrecked hair. She swam back to the shallow rim and stood again on the river rocks, the water just above her knees. Sunlight rode the water rolling down her form. It was easy to see why so many Beeches lined the clearing. Being with Thessyna unclothed--I won't say it was perfectly comfortable--I will say it was un-uncomfortable.
Smooth rocks beneath the water, coated with their slimy, living film, made me walk clumsily across them. Thessyna had moved as gracefully as a dancer but I was nearly killed at least four times making my way across the frigid shallows, finally joining her in the deep. We remained in contact, and had a hot swim in a cool pond on a warm day.
She looked at me with devilish eyes, "You wanna see something amazing?"
"I'm already there."
She sank below the surface and was gone half a minute. The cold was actually refreshing after her contact at length. When she re-emerged, she wore an even more devilish grin.
"What?" I asked.
She lifted her hand from the water and revealed... she had found the black egg stone.
"You're kidding me! You found that stone in all this water?"
"No," she said, "In all the oceans and all the seas, in all the land and lakes and rivers and streams, in the entire world," she held it against my chest, "I found this stone... in this water."
Good thing she didn't ask me again if I wished I could stay there forever, or I may not be here to tell this tale today.
Perhaps the least important, yet one of the most memorable experiences was when we walked onto land again. Her ability to generate heat caused her hair to dry in seconds. Touching my arm, the same heat dried my entire body almost instantly. I ran my fingers through my hair just to revel in the sheer oddity of it. She giggled--to her it was nothing, but to me, it was nothing short of magic.
"Would you prefer a towel?" she asked with a coy grin.
"No, actually. I just... didn't expect it."
Just then, I caught movement in the taller grass nearby. In that thick and waist-high grass, almost anything could be stalking us.
"Look, there... something moving." I instinctively put myself in front of Thessyna and readied myself for butt-naked battle. A warm breeze sent waves across the grass and triggered a chill throughout my skin, raising every hair. In a moment I realized that, whatever it was, she could probably whistle to it and make it do tricks. My arms went limp and I hung my head in embarrassment. I stepped aside. "A friend of yours, I suppose?"
She just smiled and walked toward the lurker, "Meesha, is that you?" she asked.
The great wolf lunged from the tall grass into the clearing. Thessyna dropped to her knees and raised her arms like a child ready to embrace a huge loyal dog, which she did. She turned her head to me. With a look, she extended an arm, inviting me to come near. The wolf gave me a look also... one that suggested I should think twice about accepting the invitation, which I did.
"You mustn't show fear. Come. Meesha, this is Graeson Reid, our friend. Dralpa, Graeson Reid. Dralpa, Meesha."
I stepped to them despite the wolf's warning, and extended a hand for the ceremonial sniffing. Sufficiently sniffed, I offered a scratch of the ear. It was over. The great wolf became a Labrador and collapsed at our knees for a more thorough scratch-fest.
"Dralpa means friend?" I asked.
"Mmm... not exactly. It's similar but, you can't just say you're somebody's friend and they just accept it. Dralpa is more like... you're on the same team. Friendship requires more than an introduction."
I used both hands to scratch Meesha's neck and belly. "What do I need to do to become friends?"
"Exactly what you're doing now. Meesha loves to have his belly scratched, don't you?"
If not for all of the other exotic and miraculous events of the past few hours, this moment would have been a crowning moment in my life--to share the trust of such a magnificent and dangerous predator--lying on his back, paws curled and relaxed, emitting a low, growling, blissful tone, tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.
"Meesha came to us as a puppy. We don't know what happened to his mother, but the pack wouldn't care for him as they normally do orphaned pups. He's been a friend to us for many seasons... years, I mean. He's a great hunter."
"I bet he's a great tracker, too."
"The best! My sisters used to hide when he was just a puppy, and I would tell him, 'Grick Naya,' and he would find her. 'Grick Shalesh,' and he would go directly to her."
With the words, Meesha would perk up to see if she was asking for his help, but he sensed the lack of urgency in her voice and resumed spa treatment posture.
"Are they watching us now, your sisters, your mother?"
Thessyna looked around in the expansive perimeter. "No, they would have fled when the winds released the souls of men. I would have."
"Why?"
"I honestly thought they were going to come kill me. The others probably thought the same."
That was something I hadn't considered. Meesha sneezed the universal upside-down dog sneeze, graciously changing the subject.
"So grick means to go get something," I surmised.
"Very similar, really. If you said, 'Grick-nal,' you would be asking to him to go get something for you. Grick just means you need help finding something."
"I can't believe I'm learning to talk to wolves."
"Not all wolves, of course," she said, "just the ones here in the Nesh--those who we've taught."
"Of course..." I backed away from them, "Come, Meesha. How do I say, 'come'?"
"It's very similar: kooma."
Suddenly, Meesha rolled and sprang to his feet, knocking Thessyna backward onto her keister. His ears perked and nose lifted to the air.
"I guess he's had enough," I mused.
"No, listen," she said, holding up a hand.
We stayed still and silent, watching him. He pranced toward the tall grass sniffing the wind. Faintly, I heard a distant howl. Meesha turned and squealed. Another voice in the distance. Meesha whimpered and sat, raising his chin. He opened his mouth as if to join in the chorus but only muttered a few disappointed groans.
"Doesn't he know how to howl?" I asked.
"Of course he does."
"It seems like he wants to, but he doesn't."
"Meesha doesn't just want to howl; he wants to belong to the pack."
"Oh. He is truly a lone wolf," I surmised.
"There's something about him. We tried introducing him to the pack, but they shun him for some reason. It may be why he was orphaned. Maybe he was abandoned. We don't know."
"Strange that they don't accept him," I said.
"Yes. He only wants to belong--to be part of the pack--but the others... they fear him."
We watched him listening to the others. I felt that stupid thing in my throat. After a minute, the song was over. Meesha wandered off without so much as a glance back at us, almost as if to do so would erase what was left of his pride. As he disappeared into the trees, I realized Thessyna was gripping my hand. She felt bad--empathetic toward his loneliness. I felt it in her touch.
"There is something special about him, isn't there?"
Hours passed too quickly. We simply spent them... together. The evening grew cold as the sun dipped behind the western sky. We'd eaten so many wild fruits, nuts, and roots that I never even considered being hungry. The long day, however, took its toll. Eventually, we fell asleep.
Morning came too soon. We were up before dawn. There were a few more things she wanted to show me before I left. I believed, perhaps through mere arrogance, she hoped I'd stay.
"I never had to watch the men age," she said, "It wouldn't be fair for you to stay. Take this."
"I told you, I don't need a trinket to remember you."
"It's not a trinket. Take it." She tossed it to me, forcing me to catch it. "I've imbued it with the power to generate warmth. Keep it with you, and you will always feel my warmth," she said, shedding a tear.
"This is an amazing gift, Thessyna. A part of you."
"It's nothing compared to what you've given me. Besides, we prefer that you don't start fires anyway. Remember the rock tower... "
Something she'd said earlier, "... you must turn right to see what's left. I remember."
We shared our last moment together at the water's edge, with the morning sun rising, cutting again through the tall oak trees. She hugged me tightly and shed another single tear. With her arms around me, she looked into my eyes, parting her lips. Her slender calves lifted her upward as my attention turned to the great wolf bounding again from the tall grass. Great timing, Meesha. His tail wagged exuberantly as he rushed to join our sentimental farewell. Just as her lips touched mine, Meesha's giant paws pushed Thessyna's shoulders into mine, toppling all three of us down to the water behind me.
I felt the water splash in my face, my back finding the ground. "Hey! Buddy! Wake up!"
I blinked and slapped the water from my eyes. "Thessyna?" I looked side to side, "Meesha?"
"Oh, great. Hey, do you speak any English?" the woman asked me, leaning directly over me with a hatchet in one hand, "Parlet... le English?"
Confused and annoyed, I answered, "Yes, I speak English. What..." I pawed again at my eyes. She looked just like Thessyna, but... it wasn't Thessyna. Her hair was short and blonde. The eyes were much the same, but pierced ears and a tiny scar on her cheekbone below her left eye. Plus, she was fully clothed, smelled of sunscreen, and had a disquieting, harsh temperament. Her voice was firm and rough.
"Sorry about the water--you weren't responding. You'd better get your marbles packed up, pal. There are wolves in these hills. You're lucky I found you. Hell, you're lucky you made it through the night."
I looked side to side. The little campfire I'd lit--it was there beside me. The fallen tree, the charred stump... and there it was... my flannel coat. It was all there.
She kicked at something beside me on the ground, "Been eating gooseberries, eh? It's too early in the season--they'll keep you from starving to death, but don't eat too many or you'll be in for a helluva night. What's a meesha?"
"It's a... he's a wolf..."
"A wolf? Meesha? Too many gooseberries, buddy. Do I want to ask about Thessyna?"
I shook it off, "I'm sorry, you caught me coming out of a dream. You just... you bear a remarkable resemblance to an old friend of mine."
Her eyebrows raised as she nodded a half smile, "You're off to a great start, Jack. I look like some old lady? Usually people say I look young for my age."
"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant... I meant..."
"Save it. It's Nicole," she said as she began walking away, "What's yours?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Reid, Graeson Reid."
"Graeson. Graeson, you said?" She turned to face me.
"Yeah."
"Do me a favor, Graeson, put some clothes on."
Sweet mother-of-pearl! I was naked as a newborn! I scrambled for my clothes, off balance and embarrassed. She never took her eyes off me. She just reveled in my awkwardness. Eventually I got myself dressed again, and walked over to the flannel coat. I lifted my eyes to the trees behind it, where we'd... where I'd... it didn't matter. I grabbed the coat from the stump and pulled it on.
I could hardly lift my head as I walked toward her. I finally pieced together, she was the young woman I'd seen at the hotel before. I looked up--there was no use in pretending.
"Well, thank you for the rescue. I won't hold you up any longer."
"Yeah," she replied simply.
"Are you heading back to town?"
"Yup. You?"
"No, I'm headed east."
"How long have you been out here?" she asked.
"Since yesterday morning. You?"
"Since the night before. What's east of here?"
"I don't actually know. I do a travel blog for Unseen World called, Half the Fun..." I said--she was clearly unimpressed, "and I guess I'm just looking for something worth writing about."
"Well, I hope you find something before you die. Technically, you survived twenty-four hours on your own, so you're doing better than most already. I've been part of four search and rescues since I came here, but you're the first person I've found... alive anyway."
"So... I'm sorry, I forgot your name..."
"Nicole."
"Nicole, right. They sent out a search party?"
"No, I'm just saying... lots of people get lost in these woods, and you should probably head back before you're one of them."
"What about you?"
"I may stay one more night, unless I find what I'm looking for soon."
"So, you know these woods pretty well?" I asked.
"I wouldn't say that. I just know how to survive in them."
"That's awesome. I'm a survivalist as well, but I know enough to admit when I'm in over my head. Would you be interested in joining forces for... maybe two more days? I can pay you."
"Not a chance, Jack. I know when to admit it, too. I'll tell you one thing for free though... you need to lace up your boots."
It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but she obviously wasn't the type to be easily convinced. I took her advice, lacing my boots. I straightened up to wish her well. She was frozen in a stare. Three wolves had come out of the trees and stopped short only because they realized I was also there. A lone hiker was an easy target for the pack, but the two of us were a different matter. Then two more wolves came out, tipping the scales back into their favor. I hurried to her side. I had to try it, "Morach! Nya Peyta!"
Nothing. Two of them moved outward, flanking us as the leader held his ground next to the others. Nicole raised her hatchet and steadied herself, keeping an eye on the one circling to her right. The leader's head turned toward the same side. I heard scurrying and a vicious growl, then the tale-tale yipes of a scared dog. The flanking wolf was in full retreat.
Another massive wolf was in pursuit. Instinctively, I searched for any sort of weapon to join the fight--something hard in my coat pocket--a rock--perfect size for throwing, too. A quick glance wasn't enough. I had to look again. The black egg! I felt its warmth... her warmth!
"Meesha!" I cried as he turned and took a position in front of us.
At the name, the other wolves turned and quickly disappeared into the trees. Meesha's terrible growls and barks echoed in the hills.
"It's okay, boy, they're gone," I said, placing a hand on his back.
He turned and snarled at Nicole.
"It's okay, Meesha, this is Nicole. Dralpa, Meesha. Dralpa, Nicole." I looked at her, "Come, don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid... I'm friggin' terrified."
"Yeah, I was too."
Although reluctantly, she came close enough to begin the ceremonial sniffing.
"A friend of yours, huh?"
"No," I said. "We're just on the same team."
Wolf-petting continued for a few minutes, as it should. I felt better having Meesha there. "I guess we should get going."
Nicole looked west... then, "Just two more days, huh? Five hundred bucks--what do you say?"
"No, I should be good," I said, scratching Meesha's ear beside me.
She looked west again--the trail home--the direction the wolves had fled. She sighed, "Fine. I'll go with you."
She slung her pack over her shoulder and shimmied it onto her back. I gave her a look that said I would carry it, and she gave me a look that said she would carve out my spleen if I even offered.
"What were you looking for out here, anyway?" I asked instead, avoiding the surgery.
"Apparently nothing... I was hoping to get some pictures of a certain kind of tree that's supposed to be found in this area. Maybe you've seen one. It's called a Contorted Beech."
Part 2 - theprose.com/post/711537
Part Two - The Wall Between Us
She seemed to be taking it all with stride, but I asked anyway, "You okay?"
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"That was kind of a close call. I just thought that..."
"You thought I might need a minute to what... cry about it... rethink my life choices... contemplate the meaning of it all...?"
"No, I mean... you know... people deal with near-death experiences in different ways, and..."
"And I suppose your way of dealing with it is joining a support group to talk about it."
"Not at all. Usually, there's no one around to talk to about it anyway. Maybe just take a minute to soak it all in. I mean, I was dead asleep literally twelve minutes ago and, if you hadn't found me, things could have been a hell of a lot worse. We were face-to-face with a pack of wolves. I just... I just think we should be grateful that, you know... we're alive."
Nicole stopped and turned around in the thick green brush, raising her hatchet to my face as she spoke, "You can be grateful that you survived. I'm grateful your giant friend, Meesha, showed up when he did; I'm grateful that he's fifty percent bigger than the other wolves; and I'm grateful I didn't have to use this."
"What, that? You were going to fight off five wolves with your little hatchet?"
"No, I was going to knock you in the head with it and walk away while they tore you apart."
My first instinct was to laugh, but something about her expression told me she might not be kidding around.
"Relax, Graedon, I'm only joking," she smiled as she turned and continued the search for the trail.
"It's Graeson. Seriously, though, what would you have done?"
"I don't know, dude, I was scared--people do crazy things when they're scared, so I don't know what I would have done. I'm just trying to concentrate on what I'm doing right now."
"And what is that?"
"Trying to get back to the trail without breaking a leg, cracking my skull on a tree branch, or getting mauled and eaten by some wild animal." Her frustration seemed disproportionately elevated considering the question--that's my queue to change the subject.
"Okay, I'm on onboard with that. Hey, I remember this spot. The trail's right at the top of this hill on your left. If you can make it up, we can get out of this brush."
"Go for it. If you make it, I'll follow you up."
I looked up the hill. Maybe a forty-five-degree incline, four meter climb, loose rocks, minimal vegetation--zero risk of injury on failure, but success was unlikely--maybe forty percent, and that's without a pack. If I made it, Nicole would be hard-pressed to repeat it carrying her pack. "I don't know... it's starting to look like a waste of calories," I said. "What do you think?"
"I think you're right. Where's Meesha?"
"He's around here somewhere, I'm sure."
"How long have you had him?" she asked.
"Had him?"
"Yeah, did you like, rescue him as a pup or something?"
"Uh... no. We, uhh..." I hated lying to her, but the truth would make her take her chances with that pack of wolves just to get away from me. "We haven't known each other that long. He doesn't belong to a pack, and neither do I, really, so we just kind of started our own."
"That's pretty sick. How do I get to join a wolf pack?"
I hated the question immediately. It had the power to permanently affect the way I thought about Nicole from that point on. Still, there was a chance it was nothing more than an innocent question--small talk, as they say--deserving of a response.
"That, my dear, depends on the sincerity of the question."
"Oh. I didn't realize... I guess it was just kind of off-the-cuff. 'The sincerity of the question...' let me think about that."
"That actually answers the question."
"What do you mean, 'that answers the question'? I said I'd think about it."
"You don't need to. I know you were sincere."
"How's that?"
"You don't strike me as the kind of person who wastes time on things that don't matter to you. And rather than politely humoring the conversation or, God forbid, actually engaging in something inconsequential for a minute or two, you would have said something sarcastic and made me instantly regret having shown genuine interest in the question." She turned to say something, but hesitated. "... and while I may not be a big fan of your method, there's definitely something attractive about your style. So... you said you'd think about it, so I know it matters. I appreciate that."
The clear ending of my comment, combined with the blatant emptiness thereafter, I thought, would compel a response. Receiving none, I dared to look in her direction. I knew she could see me in her periphery. It felt good to know she was taking my words into consideration rather than speaking just to "fill the gap."
"Oh man..." she began, but paused too long.
"What?"
"I'm trying to remember if I left my iron on."
"See, that's why I don't..."
"Relax, Reid, I'm just messing with you. I appreciate you being real with me, and you're right, I said I would think about it, and that's not something I would even say if I didn't care, so... yeah, how do I get to be part of a wolf pack?"
If nothing else, this woman was definitely going to keep me on my toes.
"It's actually kind of a self-fulfilling kind of thing," I said. "You don't really join the pack, you're either a part of it, or you're not. Where are you going? The trail's up that way."
"That row of oaks--it'll be easier walking by them."
"Really, how do you know?"
"There aren't as many plants that can survive beneath the shade. We can trade these hazelnut shrubs for moss and ferns."
"So you're a botanist, is that it?"
"I worked with the Lothian Group for a while, in the UK, but no, I'm not a botanist."
"The Lothian Group?" I clarified.
"Yeah, they... whoa!! There's Meesha! Holy underwear! You scared me to death! Yes, you did!"
Nicole was obviously getting along with Meesha just fine. I was going to get back to the wolf pack conversation, but it suddenly seemed unnecessary. I wondered if Meesha saw in her what I did. The fact that he remembered me from yesterday proved it wasn't all just a dream. Nicole's impossible resemblance to Thessyna had me twisted up inside as it was. I had a dozen explanations taking form inside my head, but every time I looked at her, none of them seemed to matter. I grabbed the black stone in my coat pocket, which once again sent a heat wave through my body. I couldn't help but wonder if the Dryad nymphs were watching us at that very moment, perhaps guiding us to the stone tower, or at least watching over us. Whatever the explanation was for their striking resemblance, I owed to her (and to Thessyna) to force a distinction between them. Despite their physical similarities being psychologically torturous, I couldn't allow myself to distort my perception further by mentally intermingling their personalities.
It was like déjà vu seeing her kneeling, ruffling Meesha's thick nape, except for being fully clothed. I'd recognized her pack immediately when we'd left--an Osprey Tempest--she was the real deal. The Outdoor Research Ferrosi convertible hiking pants and Smartwool Merino grey long sleeve shirt each fit perfectly. I couldn't tell what kind of socks she wore under her Columbia Newton Ridge Plus Waterproof Amped Hiking boots, but given the rest of her equipment, topped off with a Sunday Afternoons Adventure hat, I guessed the socks were equally appropriate for the trek. I have a great deal of respect for authenticity, and in the short amount of time I'd known her, there was no question, like her or not, she was authentic.
Movement caught my eye--over the brush, I saw something in a small clearing, but... there! Just a rabbit. Nicole stood and flung her hands to free the shedding hair she'd acquired from Meesha's fur.
"Hey, Meesha," I said in an excited tone. His ears perked up as he looked at me. "Come here... kooma, Meesha."
He casually cruised over to me. He couldn't see the rabbit from his vantage point, so I tapped my chest, "Kooma."
We were definitely on the same wavelength. His giant paws found my shoulders and we stood almost eye-to-eye, his muzzle in my face. I decided to teach him a new word... rabbit.
I raised my hand toward the rabbit, drawing Meesha's eyes in its direction. The rabbit flinched just enough to give itself away. I said it clearly and repeated again... "Rabbit."
A high-pitched squeal eked out as he licked his jowls. In an excited whisper, I pulled the trigger, "Go get it!"
He pushed off of me and took off in a flash. He'd almost knocked me over taking off. I couldn't help wearing a goofy grin as I watched him barrel through the bushes. No way was that huge wolf going to catch that little rabbit in all this undergrowth. I looked toward Nicole and was almost knocked over again as she went tearing past me through the brush as well. She'd abandoned her backpack and sprinted into the woods. I instinctively followed, thinking a bear or... something must have been in pursuit.
"What are you doing?!" I yelled after her.
"Joining the pack!"
Okay, I thought, I guess this is what we're doing now.
We ran as fast as we could, keeping an eye on Meesha's movements off to our left, trying to gauge where the rabbit must be running. Nicole ran like a gazelle--impossible to follow. I veered left, crashing through the thick brush like a wild boar. I could only barely see Meesha. I kept track of him by watching the plants dash apart as he bored his way through. He turned sharply to the right, toward Nicole. She skidded to a halt and shuffled back, also trying to figure out where the rabbit was headed. I kept barreling down the middle of the lane, way behind and seemingly out of the chase. A few paces more and I stopped, waiting for some hint of what was happening ahead of me. Neither of them was moving.
Nicole picked up a stick and launched toward where Meesha was sniffing. The stick hit the brush and the chase was on! Meesha sprinted forward, then turned hard right. A gaggle of small birds flew up and away as pursued the rabbit heading to my right. Nicole sprinted back the way she came from and skidded to a stop again with her arms out to her sides as if defending on a basketball court. I moved forward, stomping through low vegetation. We'd probably run past six rabbits in the process of chasing this one, but we were staying on it. Meesha kept dashing back and forth in pursuit, he was running back in a direction between me and Nicole. She started jumping through the foliage toward me. I went toward her, triangulating and narrowing the battleground. Suddenly, Meesha took a hard left and dove down.
The hunt was over. Meesha had made the kill. The rabbit was limp in his massive jaws when he raised his head.
Nicole threw her arms in the air, "Woo-hoooo!!"
I cheered, "Way to go, Meesha!"
"Meesha dropped the rabbit and hollered along, "Aawrar-rar-ryoo-rouw."
Nicole did her best to imitate his yowling, "Awr-rar-rar-roo..." she mimicked.
Listening to them celebrate together, watching Meesha almost take a moment to be something more than the great hunter, I felt that damned thing in my throat again. The sun had been up for over an hour, but I couldn't help but try--I howled like a wolf-man under a full moon, "Ah-ooooooooo!" He looked over at me.
Nicole cupped her hands around her mouth and howled at the morning sun, "Ah-ooooooo!"
Meesha looked at her like she was a crazy person. He ducked down into the lush green undergrowth and reappeared with the rabbit, then lunged toward Nicole, tail wagging ever so slightly, but it still counted as a wag. Baby steps.
Nicole and I regrouped and made our way back to her pack.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what," she half smiled, "that was fun, but it was stupid. Either of us could have been hurt running blindly through the underbrush like that."
"You don't understand, he's never hunted in a pack before. I've never seen him that close to howling like he was actually part of a pack--the way he moved..."
"Yeah, still... the next time I do something like that, stop me. He didn't need us to catch that rabbit."
"No, maybe not... but it means everything to him that we were there."
We looked back at him where he laid down looking at us, licking fresh blood from his muzzle. He whipped his head around and began nipping at his hind leg where something itched, then finished by lifting his leg and licking himself.
"Thaaat's great," she commented.
"The mighty hunter." I'd almost forgotten, it wasn't long ago Nicole had splashed water in my face and watched me run around naked trying to get my ducks in a row. I really wanted to ask her how long she'd been trying to wake me up, but even more than that, I wanted to never speak of it again.
"You ready to move on?" she asked me, picking up her pack.
"Yeah, let's."
Nicole slung her pack over her shoulder and into place again, and again, she gave me the "I dare you to offer" look.
She took a step. Looking over her shoulder at Meesha, she asked, "Are you ready to go, ya perv?"
"I said yes," I answered.
"Not you... the other perv."
We trudged along headed for the oaks. Nicole looked back again, "I never really noticed his eyes before."
"Yeah, he's pretty cool-looking."
"He's badass. I wonder how common that is in wolves."
"I don't know. I'm going to study up on them when I get back to civilization though."
"It's amazing how some of his behavior is so much like a domesticated breed."
"Yeah, though some of it seems a little shameless."
"It reminds me of a story I heard once," she said. "There was an old farmer who enjoyed sitting on his porch in the evenings. He sat there almost every night with his dog, Dusty--an old Coon Hound that the farmer had raised from a pup. Dusty had very little energy, zero tolerance for strangers, and even less pride. Whenever a rabbit or squirrel would scamper by, the farmer would tell him, 'Go git 'im!' but Dusty would just lay there and watch them scamper by. Whenever somebody other than the farmer tried to pet him, he'd snarl and keep away. The only time he put any real effort into anything was when would turn himself back toward his hindquarters and lick himself. That he could do for minutes at a time. Well, one day, the farmer's old friend stopped by and was joining him for a glass of iced tea on the old wooden porch, and there was Dusty. The friend didn't know Dusty, didn't know about his disposition toward strangers, and had no clue about his gratuitous self-cleaning habit. So they were talking--the two old friends, and sure enough, Dusty took to licking his privates right there in front of God and everyone. The farmer's friend joked about being jealous, 'Oh man, I wish I could do that!' The farmer looked at him funny and said, 'Billy, I wouldn't try it if I were you... old Dusty doesn't often take to strangers.'"
I'd heard a different version of it before, but I loved her telling of it. The best part was that she did the old mens' voices. Her naturally raspy voice made theirs perfect.
I couldn't help but wear a goofy grin. "That's a good story."
She was right about the oaks--the shrubs and bushes were much more sparse underneath them. Fields of lumpy moss took over as the most prevalent species beneath the oaks, with occasional ferns enjoying the shade.
"Dicranum moss," she said, "the moths and crane flies feed on it."
I wasn't sure, at first, what she was talking about, but as she moved forward, thousands of white-and-purple-winged moths took flight, evacuating the moss as we walked through their realm, and settling back down once we'd passed. Nicole sped ahead. She reached into her pack as she walked through the flurry. She turned toward us and took a knee, revealing a camera--not just a cell phone, but a real camera. Using one hand, she quickly motioned me aside to allow a clear angle on Meesha. Stepping past her, I stole a peek at her perspective. The reverent grey wolf... one eye deep, a piercing blue, like the sky beyond the leaves of the canopy above--the other dazzling gold, like the sun peering through it. The deadly predator steadily stalked across bright green moss under the mighty oak while a flurry of tiny wings sent silent explosions of purple and white to contrast the forest green, dozens of playful moths alighting on his coat and muzzle as, amongst their colorful chaos, his cold-steel blue and golden eyes remained sharp as daggers.
Her camera snapped out rapid-fire shots--at least thirty or forty--in a matter of seconds. It kind of seemed like cheating, but with the cloud of little wings obscuring the view, I also thought (and hoped) she'd be lucky enough to get even a single clear shot. I stepped away from her, to the side, and waited for the moths to settle. Meesha approached her from my left, and Nicole worked her magic with her camera to my right. I took a single picture of her, taking pictures of him, tiny wings blanketing her, the photographer, literally engrossed in her work.
She rose to her feet, sending them again into a flurry. She re-capped and returned the camera to its proper place, and walked on. She had no idea I was only a few paces away. She'd been lost in the moment. It's hard to find the words to describe how much I envied her just then.
"Reid?" she called.
"I'm right here."
She turned her head quickly at the sound of my voice. I must have looked the same as she had, a decorative robe of insects from head to toe. She just looked at me. Seconds passed.
"What?" she asked in a stern, annoyed manner.
I snapped out of it. I was staring. "Nothing."
"Let's go."
I shook off the robe and followed along as ordered, falling in behind Meesha. The next oak only housed a handful of moths enjoying their mossy never-ending salad. Meesha snapped at one that had pestered him one time too many.
We continued for another kilometer or so before Nicole stopped and shed her backpack again. "I gotta pee," she announced, heading off behind a huge oak trunk.
"I'll second that," I said, heading in the opposite direction, out from under the canopy.
Regrouping a minute or so later, Meesha had apparently decided to venture off by himself again, which was a shame because he provided a nice commonality between me and Nicole. It was still awkward--just the two of us.
"Hey," I said, emerging from the thicker growth, "there's a fallen tree not far from here that I think we could climb to get back up to the trail. You want to check it out?"
"Couldn't hurt. Lead the way. What happened to Meesha?"
"I don't know. He kinda comes and goes."
"Typical male."
I wasn't going to risk a response to that one. We walked through some thick growth to where we could see the downed tree. I stopped and let her catch up to me. I lifted my nose into the air.
"Hey, do you smell something?" I asked.
She lifted her nose, emulating my behavior as if it were necessary to sniff the air like an animal. Her face scrunched up.
I looked at her, "It smells like... urine."
She nodded slowly, "Yeah, it's like... Dude, you suck! Keep going!"
If nothing else, I got one over on her that time. The tree didn't take long to reach. I climbed to the top, which was actually the bottom of the tree, up at the top of the ridge. Other than some big, black ants, there wasn't much to contend with until I reached the roots which created something of a wall that could be either scaled (difficult) or circumvented (dangerous) by leaping from the trunk to the edge of the little cliff at the top of the ridge. The cliff at the top was only a couple of meters straight down before it turned into a steep slope. Falling and rolling back down to the bottom would suck and undoubtedly result in some degree of injury, but it wouldn't be disastrous. I opted to jump. No problem. I turned back to let Nicole know it was an easy enough climb, and she was already more than halfway up the tree... of course.
Once she reached the root wall, I offered again, "If you toss me your pack, you can climb over... or jump over here if you think you can make it."
She unbuckled the strap, slipped it off, and hoisted it over the roots. From my position on the ridge, the root wall was just over my height, but from her side, it was only just over a meter. The rough part was that she was starting out on a slope, and the roots were old and dry--not ideal for trusting as a hand-hold. I broke away a few smaller dried ones and put my hand out over the top of the wall for her to grab. She did not.
"I got it, thanks."
She had clearly stepped up to where the trunk and roots met--her waist was even with the top of the wall, using her hands to seek out something strong enough to proceed over. I stayed close in case she opted for assistance. Large rocks had become engulfed by intertwining roots over the years. She chose one of them to be her hand-hold. It was not in an ideal location, causing her to reach further down than she wanted before attempting to raise a leg up and over.
"Just out of curiosity," I asked, "If I were a woman, would you take my hand?"
She answered honestly through her frustration, "Yes. Probably," she smiled.
The last thing I saw was her hand slipping off the rock and her upper body disappearing behind the roots.
"Nicole!" I leaped forward throwing as much of my arm as I could over the wall where her hand had disappeared. I was up to my armpit reaching for anything. My boots clawed at the wall as I tried desperately to peer over. Finding a foothold, I hoisted myself up to where I could see over and down the other side.
She was squatting down, with one hand on the root ball looking up at me with a boy-who-cried-wolf kind of grin. "Do you smell something?" she asked, closing her eyes and sniffing the air. "Smells like vengeance... doesn't it? Don't you think?"
My lips pursed and I held back what I wanted to say. She couldn't know it, but my heart was still a shambles over parting ways with Thessyna, and her resemblance was a constant reminder.
"Alright, turn about is fair play," I conceded. I slinked back down to my side of the entangled wall between us.
"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" she called.
"No, why?"
"It kind of looked like they were welling up a little. You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm good," I snapped. "Here, why don't you take my hand and I'll help you over?" I asked in a devilish tone, trying to play along.
"Somehow I think I'd be better off taking my chances," she joked. "I'm just gonna jump, watch out."
I started thinking, Maybe life as a Contorted Beech wouldn't have been so bad...
Some crackling behind me, shuffling boots on the dirt... "Reid... help," she said plainly.
"Yeah, right," I said, turning casually to her. She was in trouble. Her weight was completely behind her. She was clawing at the dried roots next to her as they continued to fail her. Her ashen face and wide eyes pleaded with me in helplessness and fear. I reached as she fell backward. Our hands locked on each other's wrists as I fell to my knees. I threw my free arm out against the wall of roots but many broke through before I finally hit something solid enough to hold us. There was nothing to grab--only friction kept my arm from slipping off. I tried to lift her but each effort only served to pull that side of my body over the edge. She scrambled with her feet on the cliff in front of her, working against me.
"Your feet..."
"Yeah?"
"You have to let them dangle; you're pulling me over."
It was a hard ask, psychologically, but she let her feet drop--all of her weight was in my hand and she knew it. I immediately pulled with everything I had, dragging her up over the edge as I fell backward, refusing to let go.
If you're familiar with those romantic comedies where the lead characters end up falling on top of each other, staring awkwardly, into each other's eyes... this was not that. I ended up on my back with her left knee across my cheek and her right leg across my chest. She was face-down in the dirt. She lifted herself up and crawled off of me, kicking me in the face as her boot came across.
She crawled in a circle til she found me, "Thanks. You're stronger than you look."
I played it cool. "It was nothing. You're lighter than you... than..."
It was said. And I had said it. "I mean... dammit."
On all fours, hovering over me, lips pursed, she just shook her head slowly.
I only opened my mouth to speak, but never got the chance.
"Save it. You're what... thirty?"
"Thirty-one..." I answered sheepishly.
"And still single."
"It's a conundrum."
It was an un-smooth and awkward moment of perhaps biblical proportion, but somehow it still seemed like one of those moments you never wanted to end. She stayed there a little longer than necessary. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered... I touched her. In her touch, there had been... nothing. I felt the possibilities of her association with Thessyna being re-shuffled, with the new information added. As impossible as it was to not see one in the other, it was unfair to Nicole, and some part of me knew it never would be fair, until I solved the mystery.
"You know... from a distance, I wasn't really sure, but up close" she nodded, "you're really not very attractive."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"I can see why. "
She got up to her feet and stepped over me on her way to her backpack. I pulled myself up and gathered my bearings. She dusted herself off and looked briefly over the edge.
"Climbing that tree was a good idea," she said.
"Hell yeah, it was! If we hadn't climbed up here, we'd still be... well, we'd be right over there."
"Yeah. Plus, from here, we can see... up there a little bit."
"Yeah," I played along, "now we can see..."
And there it was.
Protruding from the canopy, ahead of us maybe half a kilometer, and a bit off to the left, the rock tower stood nearly twenty meters tall--a five... maybe six-story building--unmistakable. A steep hillside descended to the forest floor, and the tower separated itself from the hill, creating a gap between them and the appearance of a freestanding structure.
"That's the rock tower. That's where we're going," I informed Nicole.
"Holy... How in the world did that get there?"
"I guess we'd better go find out."
Unlike the mysterious wood-built structures, we had no trouble keeping the rock tower in sight as we approached the winding trail. The path curved around the tower on its north face between it and a sheer granite stone face rising up on the opposite side of the trail. Layers of foliage covered the first few meters of its base. Young shoots, established bushes, and branches reaching down from overhanging limbs, all pushed aside, revealed generations of vines having crept their way up the grey stone in search of sunlight.
"What are you looking for?" Nicole asked.
"I'm not sure. There's a... I don't know, like a riddle... 'when you reach the stone tower, you must go right to see what's left.' No, 'you must turn right to see what's left.'"
"'Turn right to see what's left?' What does that mean? Where did you hear this riddle, anyway?"
"You seriously wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'm not sure what it means, though. I figured I'd start here and just make my way to the right, along the face of the tower."
"Well, you're not going to go very far to the right. It drops off again over here. It's too easy, anyway. 'Turn right to see what's left... what's left. Does that mean 'what's left' like, the opposite of right, or 'what's left' like, what remains?"
"I really don't know," I said as kept digging through nagging vines.
"Well, how old is the riddle? Was it translated from another language, you think? If so, it probably means 'what remains,' because the cleverness of it is only clever if its origin is English."
"You're into riddles, eh?"
"Nope. I'm just not into wasting time digging through vines to look at a rock, so if I can help speed things along..."
"Hmm... an outdoor enthusiast who's not into adventures."
"It's possible your idea of adventure and mine are just two different things."
If she only knew...
"How did they know you would be coming from the west? Maybe turning right is actually the other side of the trail."
I liked the theory, though my real source had actually been quite aware I'd be coming from the west. "That's a good point, look around over there. I wish I could tell you what to look for..."
"Obviously... I'm looking for a mummified corpse with a hole in his skull clutching a map of Europe."
"Obviously."
"No, seriously, look!" she called.
"You're kidding me." I fought my way back through the dense vegetation to see what she'd found. It was a battle getting back out of the rough. When I finally broke through, I tried to see what she was looking at. "What is it?"
"This? It's nothing. You were right... I was just kidding."
I just looked at her in the way a man might look at someone who just told him to fight his way out of a small jungle to see something that wasn't actually there.
"Do you smell something?" she asked again.
"No, we were even on that after the tree thing."
"Exactly, now I'm one up."
I found myself in a dad pose--hands on hips, tapping fingers, looking off into the distance.
I figured, if I was going to look like a dad, I might as well say something dad-like. "You know, two wrongs do not make a right."
She had the perfect retort, "Ah-ha, but three rights... make a left."
The clever quip landed us in a stare. Three rights make a left.
"Turn right to see what's left," we said in unison.
"What if that's it?" she said excitedly. "We have to turn three rights... coming from the west, make three rights."
"Where?" I asked, almost rhetorically.
"When you reach the stone tower! Look!" She hurried back to where we'd first approached the tower, "Okay, if we're approaching from the west, when we reach the tower, we turn right."
"But there's a drop-off."
"I know! You need to climb down there," she insisted.
"Uhhh... no."
"Uhhh... yeah. You didn't think you would just walk right there, did you?"
"Actually, yes. She said, '...turn right to see what's left,' not 'climb down a... friggin' cliff to see what's left.'"
"Relax, Reid, I'm messing with you. I just wanted to see if you'd try it."
"What? Dammit, I was half-way to figuring out how to do it."
"Oh, I'm sure you would have had it."
"Damn skippy! If we need to climb down a cliff to turn right, then I'm gonna figure out how to climb down the cliff."
"Right, but you wouldn't turn right before the tower because you wouldn't turn right again, away from it--that wouldn't make any sense--so you turn after the tower, and keep turning right, around the tower, until you're facing left, back on this side." She carefully looked over the drop-off, hoping to see something... at all. "Come on!"
Convinced of her theory, she hurried along the path to the far side of the tower. There, she started digging through the foliage just as I had, but on the ground. She found something--a large, flat stone buried beneath the soil. She cleared it off until it revealed its edge opposite her. Crawling forward, she reached down over the edge, "There it is! Another one! It's a stairway!"
"Are you serious?!"
"Yes, look!"
She squeezed to one side so I could verify her discovery. "No way! You found steep stone steps!"
She cocked her head a tad, "Stacked," she added.
"Nice, yes. Stacked steep stone steps... where do they go?"
"I'm gonna guess... down?" she suggested with a dash of sarcasm, taking her next step without clearing away the dirt and vines. She stepped carefully, making sure each stone was both present and steady before treading down onto it.
We had turned right, but as we found out later, we had sidestepped the literal translation of the clue, failing to simply look back to see what was left. Slowly making our way down, we never noticed what had actually been to our left as we'd reached the stone tower. Impossible to recognize from our perspective on the trail, and immediately above where Nicole had pretended to see the mummified corpse, an enormous angry-looking face had been carved into the granite wall on the north side of the trail--a fearsome warning for travelers to never stray from the path.
The stacked steep stone steps wound their way around, to the right, to the other side of the monolith, as Nicole had predicted, to the bottom of the drop-off we'd assessed from above.
Another curtain of vines draped the wall at the ancient stairway's anticlimactic conclusion.
It appeared to be a dead end, so we started pushing aside the vines again, looking for another hint... some kind of clue. No clues were to be found on the wall, in fact, there was one area where there wasn't even a wall. The vines had hidden an entrance into the mountainside. Adventure insisted we proceed.
Dark. Quiet. I pulled out my cell phone.
"Don't waste the battery," she said. "I've got a flashlight in my pack--left side, top zipper. It's chrome."
I dug into the pocket and pulled out the light. "I'll go first," I said. She stepped aside and followed closely at my side. Man-made, for sure... short enough for me to reach the ceiling, maybe four meters wide, dry dirt floor, weird smell.
Her voice echoed slightly as she spoke softly, as if not to wake whatever might be in the cave, "Who doesn't carry a flashlight?"
"I usually bring a solar charger for my phone. I didn't think of it." I whispered back, advancing cautiously.
"This feels like a really bad idea. I keep thinking about those hikers that went missing."
Her little chrome flashlight crept along the ground in front of us, seeking out obstacles and potential pitfalls. It was useless against the deeper darkness straight ahead.
I asked her, half hoping she'd say yes, "Do you want to go back?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Okay, let's... let's regroup. Look for tracks on the way back--animal, human, anything, okay?"
"Okay."
"Do you smell anything? I just smell dirt."
"Yeah, I don't smell anything weird."
"Nothing musky, like an animal... nothing putrid, like a dead animal..."
"I smell something, but no, not that. It smells more like chemical than organic," she said.
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. So let's do this: let's pull these vines apart and we'll tie them open so we can get some more light inside, and you know what, screw it. I'm just gonna use my phone to get better light on the ground, and you can use the flashlight to look around more."
"Yeah, I guess... if we're going back in. I mean, we have to go back in, right? We can't just leave and never know what's in there."
"I think it's worth a little more time to check it out, yeah, but I'm not pressuring you at all. If you're not down, seriously, at any time... you say you want to bail and we'll bail."
We pulled the leafy curtains to the sides. Lifted away and allowing light, the arrangement actually looked pretty professional.
"Do you want to make a torch?" she asked. "Then you won't have to use your battery."
"Heck, yeah. Good idea." It was one of those times when I had the same idea, but didn't say it, then someone else throws it out. I hate when that happens.
"There's a massive sap ball on that tree to your left if you can reach it. You should be able to get two good pine cone wicks from what's there."
"I'm on it."
I located a couple of prime pine cones and twirled them in the sap that had oozed from the same tree. Using a little stick, I was able to push a lot of it further down between the scales. I heard Nicole chopping at a sapling nearby, making a long handle. The second cone wick didn't go quite as smoothly as the first, but I eventually got it pretty well coated before making my way back to the entrance where she was already operating on the handle. She had cut two of them. Good thinking.
"Nice cones," she quipped.
"Thanks. They're real, too."
She had split the end of the first stick, about a third of the way down. I whittled a short twig down and broke it off for her to wedge into the cut separating the two halves. We repeated the process to complete a cross-cut, creating four prongs. Once the handle's end was flayed out enough, I placed a pine cone into the prongs and she knocked out the twigs, causing the prongs to clamp down on the cone. Voila. One down, one to go.
The second torch completed, we were ready to brave the dark again. "Okay, are you feeling it?" I asked.
"Yup. I feel good. We've got two genuine primitive survivalist torches, I've got three pockets full of leaves for dropping bread crumbs along the way, and I'm going to text our GPS location to a friend in case we're never heard from again, with instructions to turn to the north on the east side of the rock tower."
"Very thorough. I'm impressed."
"Well, luckily, one of us came prepared."
"Ah, but what you don't realize is, before I left on this journey, I traded a cow for these magic beans..."
Even her grin can be sarcastic. She handed me a torch and looked up at me as she walked by, "You really need to shave."
She cruised into the dark portal as casually as if she were walking into a pub. I instinctively rubbed my palm on my chin and cheek, verifying the necessity. Yeah, I definitely could've used a shave.
"You coming?!"
"Yeah, sorry." I called into the darkness as I ducked inside.
She waved the flashlight until I caught up to her. "I think we should go a little bit further with just the flashlight," she suggested, "then we'll let our eyes adjust once we're away from the entrance, and light a torch. We keep going until it burns out, then we head back using the other."
"Solid plan. I like it. One caveat though--same as before--if at any time you want to call it quits, we'll head back immediately, no arguments, no whining."
"I get it. I think we're good, though."
"Good, because I'm not scared. Are you scared?"
She scoffed, "I'm not scared. You seem scared."
"I'm not scared. I just thought you might be scared."
"Nope. Not scared..."
I'm not going to lie, I was scared. "Are you ready to go then?" I asked.
She hesitated. "I think so."
"Okay. You take the flashlight."
She made an excellent observation, "These torches should last a good ten or twelve minutes each..."
"Yeah, probably."
"We're going to cover a lot of ground in ten minutes. If we have to leave in a hurry, that's going to be a pretty long trip to get out."
"Well, if we need to run back, I promise you," I said, "I'll be behind you the whole way."
"Yeah, trust me, whatever's in this cave, if we need to run, I guarantee you're gonna be behind me."
"I believe it. I've seen you in full sprint. Are we far enough in to light up a torch yet?"
"Not yet. We can go as far in as we were before, don't you think?"
"Alright, yeah."
"What is that smell?" she asked rhetorically.
"I don't know... it's kind of... unpleasant."
"Not the word I would have chosen."
"No... I had a few... you know... there were some other options. I swear, I've smelled this before, though."
"Well, this is as far as we got last time."
"Okay, well, let's take another couple of steps, then it'll be official."
"Done. We're two steps further in. Let's celebrate with the lighting of the torch," she mused.
She had her lighter ready to go. With a click, the tiny flame lit up our tiny space. I held the torch so the wick was away from us, making sure not to hold it vertically as the sap has a tendency to drip when it melts. She approached the wick with the flame.
"Have you been dropping your bread crumbs?" I asked.
She dropped the lighter to her side, extinguishing it, leaving us in pitch blackness again, "Aw dammit! The leaves! I had them all ready to go. Yes, I've been dropping the bread crumbs. Is there anything else you feel like you need to question me about?"
"You have a lot of pent-up anger inside."
"I do, actually."
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, trying to equal her sarcastic demeanor.
"Oh I do, I really do, it's just that hhhuh..."
I heard her pulled away, her breath stolen in the middle of a word, then silence.
"Nicole!" I reached for where she'd been standing but felt nothing but air. "Nicole! Say something! Kick the ground if you can! I can't see you!"
Only darkness. I squatted down to my knees and felt the ground, inching forward toward... nothing. I held the torch like a club, ready to swing. She had the flashlight and the lighter. I was helplessly blind, reaching out with my left hand, ready to swing with my right, scratching in the dirt with my foot just to make sure there was still earth below me as I inched forward as fast as could, trying to find her. I stopped to listen... then called again, "Nicole!"
I heard a click. I froze and listened for another, hoping to get even the tiniest inclination of which direction to go, how far away. Suddenly I realized I could see the dust in the air around me. I looked up from my squat, still reaching in the dark. She was standing against the wall like James Dean with one foot casually resting against it, one hand on the back of her neck, the other holding the lighter, illuminating the stoic expression on her face.
I was ninety-seven percent relieved, two percent pissed-off, and one percent mortified by my ridiculous posture, but the more satisfied I became with her safety, the faster the pissed-off and relieved switched places. I stood up straight, jaw noticeably clenched. Her little impish smile turned to something different... something sincere. I saw a tear drop from her eye. My heart was pounding with adrenaline and anger, but the flood slammed into a concrete dam, built in a split second, by a single falling tear.
It fell on her wool shirt, leaving a tiny dark spot. My eyes glanced to the spot, to her face, to the spot, to her face. Her thumb slipped off the lighter, leaving us once again in complete darkness.
"I'm sorry."
Next chapter - theprose.com/post/717295
Part One : theprose.com/post/705387
Part 3 - Hidden Beauty
I stood there, thankful for the darkness concealing my expression as I tried to consciously lower my heart rate by sheer will, failing, of course. With almost every fiber in my being, I wanted to reach for her-- almost every fiber. Something was holding me back. I felt my hand lift almost against my will. I heard her boot come away from the rock wall in front of me. In a fraction of a second, I imagined her heading for the exit.
Her hand brushed my arm, then planted itself. Her other hand, searching, found my ribs and in the next second they were both wrapped around me, her hair tucked under my chin. I held her-- sort of-- more so, I held her backpack, still attached to her. She broke away and flicked the lighter again. I found her eyes fixed on the unlit torch in my hand. I brought it forward so she could ignite it.
Her glance toward me didn't even make it shoulder high. "Let's go," is all she said.
All I had in my head was a theory about what had just happened. I can tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I was dead wrong, but at that moment, I thought that I had scared her. I didn't know her well at all, and I really let that fact sink in. I knew that everything about her screamed 'tough chick,' but I learned, just then, that whether her toughness was a thin veil or a six-inch thick wall of sheer grit, underneath it she was fragile, delicate-- vulnerable. She had shown a side of herself which I would have wagered a hefty sum she had not often revealed. I made myself a private little vow to be extremely careful with her-- never to exploit the access she had granted me, to that part of her.
We'd estimated ten or twelve minutes before the torch wick would burn out, but those few minutes seemed to stretch into hours. We plodded along, never finding a single animal track, no insects, no markings on the walls. There could be no mistaking-- it had been dug purposefully, but the mystery was its purpose. The pathway tunneling through the hillside included an occasional turn to the left or to the right, not much up or down, though most of the time, it seemed like the elevation was increasing slightly, if anything.
I was happy that the notion of danger had all but subsided. Neither of us was claustrophobic, and the possibility of collapse seemed infinitely minuscule. We'd been walking and chatting as if taking a stroll along a lonely path through a forgotten park on an impossibly dark night. For more than one reason, I was dismayed when the first torch flickered its last flick.
"I guess that's the end of it," I said, more than a little disappointed in the lack of-- something-- anything that would justify walking through a pitch black tunnel while daylight was being wasted outside.
"I guess so," she agreed. "I still have a few more leaves if you want to go a little further."
The complete absence of light is always a bizarre thing. I thought I could still see her, though I knew I couldn't. "Actually, I'd kind of like to just sit here for a few minutes if you're not in a hurry to get back. I'm kind of disappointed."
"Yeah, me too. I was really hoping to see where this thing leads."
I heard her unlatch her pack and slip out of it, setting it on the ground. That answered that question. We were staying for a minute. Maybe it was just arrogance, but I felt a pin prick in the back of my mind-- what did she mean by that?
I took a seat on the floor, "Have you ever hiked in Japan?"
"Ugh, yes. Never again."
"So many people, right?"
"Literally five to eight hundred people a day on average, "she said. "I looked it up when I got back."
I had looked it up too. "Gotemba, right?"
"Yeah."
"What about Alaska?" I asked.
"You know what? I have the worst luck with bears."
"You should probably stay away from Alaska."
"I know, right? No, but I still go. I just always carry when I know it's bear country. So, you've been doing this blog thing for a long time, then, huh?"
"Thirteen years."
"Oh, really? Wow. So you got out of school and just disappeared."
"Yeah, pretty much. I'd done a few videos in high school when my dad and I went on hiking trips or kayaking or whatever, and I had to do a paper for my English class, senior year, so I used my videos to write a basic survival guide. My teacher, Mr. Hillstead, thought it was great and suggested sending it in to a couple of publishers. Of course, I didn't send it to anyone because I was a stupid teenager and I was going to make my fortune doing videos, but Mr. Hillstead sent my guide to a few places and one of them, Unseen World, thought my take as a novice, advising other novices on how to get by on 'Nothing but Nature' was a sure-fire way to get the next generation of outdoor survivalists to buy their gear from their advertisers."
"Makes sense."
"It worked too. Within a year, I had multiple sponsors and paid trips basically all around the world if I would use their equipment and review it in my blog. I always said, 'As long as it doesn't matter whether my review is positive or negative, I'll do it,' but the ones that got bad reviews never asked again, so I guess they kind of expected only positive reviews from sponsored travelers."
"Yeah, that also makes sense."
"So within another year, I had no sponsors. Even the best equipment manufacturers still preferred a 'guaranteed' positive review, so they left me hanging. My followers and readers thought it was great, but honesty didn't pay the bills, so instead of getting free equipment, now I just share my experiences, then plug the manufacturers at the end, but only if they agree to my price. UW picked up Half the Fun again in 2018. Then when Covid hit, people were dying to get outside, or trapped inside reading about where they wanted to go next, so things were good. While the other guys were stuck in mandatory two week quarantines every time they got off a plane, I was writing from a backlog of trips I'd made over the past few years. I got pretty lucky."
"Well, you must have some talent, or you wouldn't have all those people reading your stuff."
"I guess. What about you? How did you get into photography?"
"I think everybody's into photography; there just aren't many people who are good at it."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like, people look at good photography, but they think, it's just a picture, so they figure they could've taken that same picture if they'd just been there--the camera does all the work, right?"
"Yeah, I could see that. Today's cell phones have ridiculous camera functions. Anyone can take great quality pictures now," I offered.
"Right, but quality is only a small part of it. You have to have substance. Sometimes people get lucky and capture something rare, but it takes an artist to capture something meaningful. Rare is, you know-- rare, but meaningful events happen all the time. If you can capture rare and meaningful at the same time-- that's the difference."
"I'm not sure I follow. What do you mean, they happen all the time?"
"Reid, think about it--we're in one of those moments right now. It would be kind of hard to sell this picture of us in complete darkness, but that's the rare part; the meaningful part is the two outdoor survivalists taking a break and sitting down for a chat in some remote place, talking about how they got into their respective fields."
"Okay, so two people talking is meaningful?"
"Not always. It depends on the visual. Picture two men wearing suits. They're driving in a Lexus, talking about football. Now think, what's in the background of that picture?"
"I don't know-- the back seat of a Lexus?"
Yeah, exactly. There's nothing about the scene that drives the imagination. Now picture the same two men with face paint, in a sports bar, and one's wearing a Jets jersey, and the other's wearing a Niner's jersey, and they're up in each other's faces--that's got a feel to it. What's in the background of that picture?"
"Probably their girlfriends, at the same table, both staring at their cell phones-- there's something meaningful."
"Exactly! See, you get it. It happens all the time. Now, if you take those same people, and they're on the side of the road on some deserted stretch of highway, and the men are still in each other's faces, while their girlfriends are changing the tire--that's something you can sell."
"So you can set those scenes up and sell the pics?"
"You could, but I think people can tell the difference between a setup and the real deal. That's why I prefer nature photography--it's always real, always authentic. Here, I'll show you..."
She fumbled around to find her camera and used its digital display to light her way over to me. She thumbed through what seemed like a hundred pics of Meesha walking through the flurry of moths earlier.
"Look, any of these are obviously rare--a giant wolf surrounded by little butterflies--but these ones..."
Wow. She was right. They were beyond just rare--they were brilliant.
"Nicole, these are amazing. I mean-- I was there and I didn't see any of this the way you've captured it."
"Thanks. And do you know what the difference is between the first ones and these?"
"What?"
"Right here. It's where his left leg has his weight on it. It shifts his muscles and turns his fur to the side, exposing the dark roots, and you see how strong he is. He could tear you apart, but he's so gentle, too. Look, it makes all the difference in the world."
I pulled my cell from its case and showed her the picture I took.
"This was my vantage point," I said. "The giant wolf--mid-stride, the beautiful photographer-- kneeling for the perfect shot, both of you covered with them, the way the photographer actually becomes enveloped by the nature she's observing."
"This is actually really good."
She didn't even flinch at that "beautiful photographer" mention-- I mean, didn't even flinch.
"You think so?"
"I do. I mean, the lighting isn't great, but this is exactly what I'm talking about--it's not just rare, it's got substance. The photographer at work, the dangerous predator, the proximity, how she puts herself in his path just to capitalize on the moment-- if you had submitted this to Mr. Hillstead, you'd probably be freelancing right now."
"Well, I'll have to text it to him when we get out of here."
I closed the gallery app and our world went dark again.
"You definitely should. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."
She clicked her digital screen again, lighting up our cramped, strange-smelling world again until she tucked it back into her pack. I heard her sit back down. Okay. We still weren't leaving yet.
"I have a question," she began. "Who is 'she'?"
"She, who, she?" I babbled.
"Back out on the trail, you said, 'She said to turn right, not to climb down a friggin' cliff.' Who is 'she' who said that?"
"Ah. Right..."
"No bullshit. Don't stall, just say it or I'll know you're thinking of a lie. Who is she?"
"I'm not sure."
"See, that's a bullshit answer..."
"No, really! I'm actually not sure if it was real or fiction-- the 'turn right' thing was said by someone who I assumed was a mythological being..."
"Reid. Reid, stop. Just-- I would've preferred a bullshit answer," she griped as I heard her stand up.
"What? Why?"
"Nothing. It's just--not what I expected."
I wasn't sure, at that point, if I would have told her the whole truth if she'd let me finish. Still, a part of me was relieved for not having to try. I'd just begun to stand up when...
"So, I have another question," she began again.
It was a big enough question that she'd sat back down. One thing I liked about Nicole, already, was that she's not one for passive-aggressive rhetoric. A lot of people ask a questions as a way of making a statement. Nicole's more of a make-the-damn-statement kind of woman. Still, she'd stood up and sat down so many times, it was almost comical. I took advantage of the dark, grinning freely as she struggled-- either for the words or for the courage to use them. I'm quite sure, if she could have seen me grinning, she would have left me in the dark both figuratively and literally.
"When I pretended something grabbed me, before-- then you saw it was just a stupid prank..."
Oh, dammit. "Yeah?"
"Why... why did you say, 'I'm sorry'?"
I hesitated to answer. It was good, but it was troubling. This was evidence of a real, live, calculating female beneath her resilient, stoic exterior. No man, for instance, in his right mind, would endeavor into this conversation in the middle of a cave with a ten-minute walk in front of him to reach the exit. It had seemed like hours walking in-- if this didn't go well, the walk back out would feel like days-- maybe weeks. Still, for a moment, I actually thought about telling her everything.
"Do you want the whole story, or just the basics?"
"Just the basics. If I'm not satisfied, I'll ask for the whole story."
"Okay. I was scared," I said plainly, "...terrified, actually, that something had grabbed you in the dark. I was blind and helpless and-- I just thought how scared you must have been-- hurt, or otherwise. Then when I saw you were okay, my heart just about exploded with relief; but then I saw-- how okay you were. You weren't hurt or in danger or even scared. You were just looking at me flailing desperately in the dark, with that smirk on your face. I got angry. I stood up angry. I looked-- angry. You were just playing around, but I didn't take it for what it was-- like you said, it was a prank, but I was just pissed. Then I saw that teardrop fall. You were alone in a cave, or whatever this is, in the middle of nowhere, with this enraged guy you just met this morning. You had every right to be scared. I'd become the thing in the dark we were so afraid of finding. What else was there to say but, I'm sorry?"
She didn't respond. It seemed like as good a time as any to ask, "What about you? Why did you say, 'I'm sorry'?"
She hesitated as well. I waited.
"I was scared too," she answered softly, narrowly finding her voice.
"Of what?" I dreaded the answer.
She paused again, "Of what I'd done-- of what I've become." She breathed in and out heavily--a technique I've used a few times to keep it under control when I start to lose it. "I've dated a lot of guys and they never even had a chance. They didn't know. They had no role models; they were raised by single mothers; they were raised by their cell phones and televisions. They think growing a beard makes them a man. They didn't know. After a while, I got cynical. I'd play little pranks on them and watch them melt like butter. Sometimes they'd literally run away. Half of them I could beat at arm wrestling."
She laughed through her sniffles. This wasn't what I was expecting.
"I know the type. They think if they can start a fire with a hand drill, that makes them a survivalist, and I explain to them, it's the opposite--it's knowing how to survive when you can't start a fire."
"Exactly... exactly. But then there's you-- you're like-- when those wolves saw my skinny blonde butt back where I found you this morning..."
"Meesha showed up and chased them away."
"Yeah, but you were the first one there. You knew me five minutes, but you still ran to help instead of running away. Then later, with the tree-- I dropped down behind that root system to make you think I fell, and you reached for me. Then, you actually did save me when I missed that jump. You're just this genuinely-- manly kind of guy; and then, when we got scared the first time we came into the-- whatever this is, I started fabricating this idea for a prank, which was stupid-- and I had it in my mind that when you thought something grabbed me, you were going to go screaming for the door. I was going to be in this super chill position, then light the lighter and say, 'Relax Reid, I'm just messing with you.' I saw it all in my head.
"But you didn't run away. You know-- I realized I just did this horrible thing to this guy, who's already been there for me three times, and just to prove to myself that you're just another man-child with a fake beard trying to show his mommy what a big boy he is.
"You just--you were calling my name and I guess--I guess I felt like you did. I felt what you must have been feeling--terrified and helpless and blind--and you actually felt those things--and I did that to you. All you wanted to do was help me, and here I am, this super chill a-hole standing against the wall after I just put you through that. You were so mad-- and I deserved everything you were about to say, but then I took that away from you too because I started crying like a stupid girl. What else could I do but say, 'I'm sorry'?"
The darkness had made the transition. It had started out our enemy, but it had become our friend, hiding our ugliness so that we could be perfectly honest. We enjoyed it, I think, too much, but we enjoyed it just the same. Minutes passed in silence before I suddenly realized. I couldn't hold back my laughter. She started chuckling along as well, though having no clue why.
"What is so funny?"
"Uugh! My phone!"
"What? What about it?"
"When the-- non-existent thing grabbed you, I was so focused on the fact that the torch in my hand wasn't lit, and that you still had the lighter and the flashlight-- I totally forgot about my phone. That's how awesome I am in a crisis."
A bursting snort gave away her unseen smile, "I wasn't going to say anything," she chuckled.
I couldn't help but picture myself-- what I must have looked like when she flicked that lighter on. I just laughed.
"Come on. Let's get out of here," I said, getting to my feet.
She shuffled to her feet as I grabbed my phone again to give her enough light to find her pack and set the second torch ablaze.
"Here, it's the last of it, so enjoy it," she said, handing me her water bottle. There wasn't much, but it was a refreshing contrast to all the dust. I savored the last drop.
I was about to say a sincere thank you when she threw her hand out to stop me, "Did you see that?"
"No, what?"
"I thought-- up ahead. I thought I saw a light."
"What, like a flashlight?"
"No, like daylight. It was small, but it seemed like it was far away, so it might have been bigger, but now it's gone."
"How far away?"
"I don't know. Close enough that I could see it."
"You said you still have some leaves. Let's go check it out. Grab your flashlight."
She clicked on the flashlight, illuminating her wide-eyed face like a kid telling ghost stories.
Her voice was eerie, "Already got it."
"Nice."
"Not much good these leaves are doing us--this tunnel only goes in one direction anyway."
We ushered onward toward whatever she'd seen. She dropped more bits of leaves as we went, despite her pessimism toward them. Then it happened again--much closer. I saw the light this time, too. It was definitely daylight, blocked by something that moved enough to let it in, and then it moved back, blocking it again.
She warned me, "Don't let your eyes focus on it. Keep your eyes on the ground so we don't walk into a pit or something."
"Okay, I'm watching."
I heard what I thought, for sure, sounded like laughter.
"Are you hearing that?" I asked.
"I don't know. It sounds like giggling... like laughing."
"Yeah."
The thing moved again. I kept my eyes downward to avoid being blinded by the light. We were mere meters away.
"Stop," I said. "We need to let our eyes adjust."
"What is it?"
"It's just like where we came in-- covered with vines or something, and they keep getting pushed away, then they fall back. I'm trying not to look directly at it, but it seems like that's what it is."
"We just have to be patient. It'll take a minute to adjust to the light."
It was an anxious minute, but it was the right move. Our eyes able to process the ground and walls, we moved forward easily. The laughter was louder--definitely laughter--giggling, like Nicole said. We moved closer to the exit. Someone ran past with an arm outstretched, brushing the curtain of leaves like a kid swooshing his hand across a rack of hanging dresses in a department store. More giggling-- more playing. We moved closer and tried to peer through the leaves. It wasn't English, but people were talking loudly and telling stories and laughing at each other's antics. I pictured them in my mind as we eased even closer to the leafy vines. We heard them clearly as we bobbed our heads around peering out through the thick leaves.
"What the..." she stopped herself.
"They must be in the trees," I whispered pseudo-confidently.
"It sounds like they're right outside. It must be the acoustics of the tunnel, picking up their voices," she whispered back.
"Maybe there's a terrace above us."
"Well, everyone seems to be having a good time. It's probably as good a time as any to introduce ourselves."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Absolutely."
"Then why are we still whispering?"
"I don't know."
"What language is that?" I asked.
"Sounds like Spanish-- or maybe Portuguese?"
"Should we go in-- or out, in this case? I don't want to surprise them."
"They probably won't be as threatened by me," she suggested, "I can go first and break the ice."
"Not a bad plan. I was going to say, we should... okay, I guess you're going."
As planned, she took a few steps out into the open, then knelt down to show she was not a threat. It only took a few seconds for someone to notice her.
"Nueva mujer!" a woman cried, "Mira! Nueva adulta!"
They sounded reasonably close. I kept an eye on the huts under the oaks. I watched for movement by the boulders to the west. I tried to focus on the shadows between the trees, waiting for someone to appear.
Nicole said something I couldn't make out, then she turned to me as a man's voice spoke loudly, "She talks English!"
I couldn't see who said it, but I could hear the others echoing his information, carrying it through the crowd as they came closer. She also looked around for anyone-- or anything that might be cause for concern.
She let out a long, slow, and worried, "Reid," followed by, "I don't know what's happening. I think you should come out here."
I pushed aside the vines and walked into the strangest world I'd ever heard. In seconds, they had both of us surrounded. Their voices were clear. Moments before, they'd been speaking a Romance language-- Spanish, I thought-- but since Nicole's entrance, they'd all changed to a heavy British accented English. I heard them perfectly, but I couldn't see a single one of them.
"Remember, don't touch 'em yet," a man's voice warned.
"We know," another man said, annoyed.
I thought I'd try communicating with them, "Why shouldn't you touch us?"
"Them's the rules, friend," the first man replied.
A woman joined in, "It's just 'cause people get the willies at first."
Nicole asked, "Question then-- why... why can't we..."
A baritone voice grew impatient, "Why can't we what?"
The woman answered him bitterly, "She wants to know why they can't see us, Davey!"
"Yes," Nicole confirmed, "Why can't we see you? Are you... are you..."
Laughter erupted among them. A commotion of celebration began. "She can't say it!" one voice laughed above the others.
Remarkable as they may have been, they were still unreasonably rude. I was about to suggest an improvement in their degree of hospitality when a metal clanging silenced the crowd. A lone woman stood near one of the huts in the distance with some sort of pipe or metal rod in her hand, banging on a long, wide piece of rusty metal dangling from a tree and anchored to the ground. The voices scattered, protesting in disappointment.
"Aww, we were just getting to know them." a woman's voice despaired.
"Don't worry," another said, "they'll be one of us soon."
"But there are two of them," the baritone man said. "Don't you mean they'll be two of us?"
"Oh shut up, Davey."
Nicole didn't like the sound of it any more than I did. "I think I want to go back to the tunnel," she said.
"Yeah. Look sharp. She might be summoning something."
We started moving slowly back toward the tunnel as we kept our eyes peeled for giant lizards or apes or something coming out from the trees.
Once the voices had faded into the tree line, the lone woman waved at us to join her. It was a short walk to the huts.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"I think this is nuts! Why are we still here?"
"I don't know. I just-- I don't think they want to hurt us."
"Or maybe they do, but they just can't because they don't have freakin' bodies." she argued. "Remember when we were in the cave and it was kind of neat because we couldn't see each other when we were talking?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, when we're in broad daylight, I expect to be able to see who I'm talking to!"
"Well, we can see that woman. Let's just go talk to her for a minute. Don't you kind of want to know what happened to these people? Come on, what do you think?"
"I think we just walked through a long, dark, hidden tunnel and came out in a haunted forest."
"Okay, so let's go find out if you're right."
"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?"
"No, 'no' is an answer. If you're scared, you can go back to the tunnel. I'll just talk to her for a minute and..."
Nicole was already on her way to the woman. I hurried to catch up to her.
"I guess you changed your mind."
"Yeah, I'm not waiting in some cave while you drag this thing out for two hours. We'll talk for a couple minutes, then we go," she explained, leaving no room for debate.
"Cool. I think we should slow down a little, though. We're walking kind of aggressively."
"Fine," she said as she slowed her pace considerably. She raised two fingers in my direction and looked at me sternly. "Two minutes."
Karma slapped her in the face, or stubbed her toe, I should say. She'd taken her eyes off the ground to issue her stern gaze for effect, then tripped on a rock and fell face-first to the ground, the force amplified by her pack.
"Dammit!" she swore. "Son of a..."
"Are you okay?" I asked, stopping beside her. I looked back to find the culprit that tripped her up, deliberately not looking at her in her moment of dismay.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just landed on a stupid twig. Are you going to help me up, or do I need to look like that much more of an idiot trying to get up?"
"Yeah, sorry," I said, offering her a hand.
She reached with her left, though I gave her my right. I hoisted her upright and helped straighten her pack.
"How bad is it?" I asked.
"Minor. I tore the skin at the bottom of my palm on that stupid twig."
"Oh, I hate that!"
"I know! I haven't done that since I was a kid. It's going to swell and have that stupid flap of skin barely hanging on for the next week until it dries up and I gnaw it off like an animal."
"Aw man, that really sucks. What about the rest of you? Your knees okay?"
"I don't know. This friggin' thing stings so much I can't feel anything else anyway."
We walked the last few meters to where the woman had stood, but she'd also disappeared while we were assessing Nicole's nuisance injury.
"Great, so we can't see her now either?" she protested.
"Hello?" I called out.
"Just a minute," a voice called back from inside the hut in, believe it or not, a British accent.
"Two minutes," Nicole repeated under her breath.
"Two minutes from when we start actually talking," I whispered.
"Time is relative, Mrs...?"
"It's just Miss. You can call me Nicole," she said politely.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed. Welcome. I am Rayla," she said before sitting down on the ground. She wore what looked like an animal skin of some kind--inside out, a slit cut, through which her head protruded, and long enough to drape almost to the ground. A thin twine wrapped around her waist.
Nicole sat with her. "Hi Rayla, I'm Nicole, and this is Graeson. What does that mean, 'Time is relative'?"
She looked at Nicole carefully. It looked as if she were looking through her. "Why have you come here?" she asked pointedly, as she put her hand out, inviting Nicole to give her her hand.
I sat down as well, "We didn't come here for any particular reason. We were just exploring the tunnel.
She turned her gaze in my direction, though somewhat shyly-- never making direct eye contact. Dark brown hair shaded pale blue eyes. I guessed she was probably twenty years old, though the look in her eyes was as timeless as the written word.
"Why-- have you come here?" she repeated.
Her stern delivery demanded a straight answer, so I gave it to her straight, "We were hiking on a trail not far from here, we found a stone staircase, which led to the far end of that tunnel over there, and we walked through it. We didn't 'come here' for any particular reason-- we're just here, and we have no intention of staying. Rayla, you can ask all the questions you want, and we'll answer them for you, but I hope you'll understand, we heard voices of people we couldn't see. The only thing that makes sense is that they're the spirits of dead people. That's the kind of thing that makes people want to go far away and never come back. Can you help us understand what's going on here?"
"They are not spirits," she said confidently. "You brought no one with you? Your daughter, maybe?"
"No. How can you know that?" Nicole asked.
"There is no one with us--just Nicole and me," I reiterated plainly.
"The people you heard are not dead. Only the two of you, then?"
She was just being cautious, but I was losing patience quickly. "Rayla. There is no one else with us. We didn't come here looking for anything or anyone. We walked out to meet the people we heard talking, but we couldn't see anyone, though their voices were clear and very close. We were leaving when you started banging that sheet metal and they all left us alone. We only came to you because you waved us over. We're not going to hurt anyone. We're not hiding anything from you."
"Everyone is hiding something."
Frustrated by the dead-end conversation, I fidgeted in place--my patience had worn thin.
"Reid..."
"What does that mean, 'Everyone is hiding something'? There are a bunch of people out there hiding so well we can't even see them, you're dodging every question, and ignoring me when I answer your question. So, who's hiding something? Not me. Nicole, are you hiding something?"
"Graeson." Nicole scolded me with my own name.
She was right. "I'm sorry, Rayla. We're the invaders here. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to answer. We're just extremely curious about hearing their voices without seeing anyone there. If you know, and you're willing to explain, we'd really like to hear about it; but if you don't know, or don't want to tell us, that's fine too. This is just too much for us to fully comprehend, so we'll probably just go back the way we came and keep this whole thing to ourselves because-- no one would believe us anyway."
This time, I was the one Rayla was looking through. She said nothing, but seemed somehow satisfied. She refocused on Nicole's face, back to me, then to Nicole again. Nicole gave her the hand she'd requested-- a show of trust. The young woman took her hand and gave her a small earthen cup. "Pour slowly over the wound."
Nicole took the cup, smelled it, offered for me to smell it, which I did. It didn't seem to have an odor other than the cup itself. She took a chance and poured something that looked like water over the tear in her palm while looking at Rayla, wincing slightly, then relaxing, never leaving her eyes. Perhaps it was enough to have gained her trust.
"His name is Yun."
"Yun?" Nicole repeated.
"Beside you."
We both looked to where she'd motioned, but no one was there. Nicole took the opportunity to inspect her wound, unsure of what had been administered to it. She rubbed at it with her other hand and looked again. She wiped off the excess fluid on her shirt and looked once more.
"It's gone."
Rayla merely nodded once with a faint smile.
"Reid, it's gone. It's healed. It's completely healed!" she said, thrusting her hand in my face.
I focused on the heel of her palm. The wound was, indeed, healed completely-- not even a scar.
"Yun," Rayla said to the space between us, "Please come sit here, next to me."
We heard footsteps, startling both of us. The hair on my arms stood up. I thought she might have been-- I don't know-- making him up; but we heard him there--we heard something--walking across our little pow-wow and taking a seat as instructed. Rayla held out the earthen cup again, along with her free hand, gesturing for Nicole's hand again, and she freely gave both.
"Wet your fingers with water and gently rub your eyes."
She reached into the cup, alternating hands to dip her forefingers into the cup. She rubbed her eyes for a few seconds--a fact that bothered me more than a little. Rayla called it water, but it obviously included a very powerful healing agent. What effect might it have on one's eyes? Nicole was about to find out.
She dropped her hands away and blinked away the excess, then recoiled suddenly. Her backpack was the only thing that kept her on the ground as she scrambled backward, away from our tiny group.
"What the hell?!" she demanded.
"What is it?" I demanded of her, unsure of what to do.
She pointed to-- well, nothing. "Yun! He's-- he's there! You're Yun!"
Rayla waved her hand out to the side, inviting Nicole to look around, across the clearing. She followed Rayla's hand, then turned her whole body, flopping backward with her pack awkwardly hindering her from getting to her feet.
"Hey! Nicole, what is it?! What did you do to her?!"
Rayla said nothing as I scrambled to help Nicole, though I had no idea what I was helping her with, or expecting Rayla to say.
Nicole looked back to her, "Who are they?" she asked excitedly. "What are you?" she asked the empty space beside her. "Wait, what's happening? Don't go. Wait!"
She looked desperately into the clearing again, taking hurried steps to see more space... more nothing. I composed myself enough to guess that she must have been seeing the people we'd heard, but my mind still wasn't fully prepared to accept the idea that there was a man, Yun, standing-- or sitting-- right here, when I couldn't see him at all.
"You see them... the people who were talking?" I asked.
She stammered, "No. Yes. I mean, I did, but now they're gone. What happened? Why are they like that?"
Nicole was beside herself but Rayla answered calmly, "The water is special."
"Yeah, I gathered that from when you healed my hand with it, but that doesn't answer the question."
"It does, actually. People have searched for the water's healing powers for thousands of years, to cure them, heal them-- and those who find it, and drink it, are often affected by it in this way."
"Wait, what?" I interrupted. "You're saying that drinking this water makes people invisible? How long does it last?"
Nicole was about to explode, "I've got literally, like, a million questions right now."
Rayla interrupted before the well of questions began to overflow, "You seem like you are decent people. It will be much simpler if I just tell you what I've learned. If you need more, I'll try to answer your questions thereafter."
"Okay," I said. "What do you know?"
"The water flows from the rocks just through those trees," she said, pointing off to her left. We looked but saw nothing again. "People seek this place for different reasons, but they stay for the same reason--they don't want to die. Some bring their children to heal them from diseases. Sometimes the parents never go back. Some come to correct deformities or, like me, injuries. Some people come for simple, selfish reasons-- because they hear of a blessed spring with the power to preserve life-- to restore and preserve their beauty. The ones we fear, though, are the merchants. They are blinded by their greed. They come with groups of hired men and never heed the warnings. They dive into the water as if it were any ordinary spring. They splash and play about like children, healing their aches and weary feet without even knowing the full extent of the water's abilities.
"In the morning, they realize. They've restored lost years from their bodies, regained strength lost to years, and even regrown hair. They fill every skin and every flask until they can carry no more, then disappear in the mountain where they meet their fate."
"They meet their fate?" I repeated.
She went on, "When someone drinks from the spring, the next morning finds them invisible to those who have not. Only the others-- those who have also drank it-- can see them. They are healed of whatever ailed them, but they find there is a price for their health, and have to decide."
Nicole asked her, "You never drank from the spring? Why did you come here if not for that?"
Rayla smiled, "My father was always a bit of a foozler. Mother always said he could dance like an angel, but hardly walk a proper line. There was an accident when I was very young-- an infant. My father was at fault, and never forgave himself for my injury. Mother never forgave him either. He was desperate to try anything, he talked to anyone who would listen. A hedge-creeper took pity on him and-- and mind you, Father wasn't the kind to run 'round on Mother, he would just talk to anyone at all, even that lowly prostitute, that day. Well, she took him to her home to show him something passed down through her family for generations. She told him of this place, just the way her father had told her, which was the way her father had heard it from his mother, and so on. Her ancestor had been told of it, and had taken his family to seek the healing spring when the plague had ravaged his town."
"The plague. The Black plague?" I asked.
"Yes, there are actually seven here who came because of the plague."
"That was hundreds of years ago," Nicole remarked.
"Yes. Besides myself and Joseph, they are the youngest residents of the valley."
"That's amazing. I'm sorry for the interruption. Please, continue," I said.
"My father traveled here from our home in Leeds, twice--the second time with me, when I was twelve. It took one and one-half months to locate the trail marked on the map, then he and I searched for weeks in pouring rain before we found the tunnel beneath Zen Rock. Father went nearly mad with fear coming through the tunnel, but I lead the way. After months in the wilderness, we were a right dauncy pair of mumbling coves, I'm certain. But, when we came through that tunnel, Yun took us in--he was the Keeper then. He didn't care what we looked like, and Father couldn't see him at all! He explained to my father the first consequence of my healing--we could remain here, healed in a single day, yet I would become invisible to him unless he, too, drank from the spring; or, we could stay as long as the gradual treatment required, with the understanding that it might take the rest of his life to see my injuries healed."
"Is he still here?" Nicole asked.
"He is not," she answered, "I pleaded with him that we should both return to England. I forgave him a hundred times over, but he could not forgive himself, so we stayed. He refused to allow me to become unseen, and he refused to drink from the spring himself. Only rainwater sustained us."
"Can I ask what happened to him?"
"Certainly. The treatments were helping, but weren't holding long. It seemed it would take years to hold long-term effects. I told him to go back home, to Mother, to let her know we'd found the place and that I was being treated, then he would come back again-- but he never returned."
Nicole sunk slightly, "How sad-- I'm so sorry."
"He also met his fate in the mountain?" I asked.
"No. He never drank the water, and carried none with him. The mountain allowed him to pass through."
I wasn't happy hearing that. "The mountain 'allowed him' to go through? How does the mountain know he never drank the water?"
"The water invokes the flames."
"Oh," I nodded, as if that made any sense at all.
Nicole re-centered us, "So you don't know where your father is?"
"This is the second consequence--no contact with the world beyond the valley. I cannot know what became of him."
"What's his name? Maybe we know him," I tried.
Nicole slowly turned her head toward me, as if out of eight billion in the world, the handful of people I knew, couldn't possibly include her father.
"Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask."
"Thank you, Mr. Graeson, his name was Hans Valbecker."
"Sounds like a pretty common German name. How long ago did he leave?" I asked.
"Honestly, I don't know. The years don't matter much here, the others do not age any longer."
"Come again," I said.
"Wait, they don't age-- at all?" Nicole pleaded.
"The water heals everything. They don't even require food to live because their bodies do not require maintenance-- of any kind."
Nicole put it together, "But you still do-- because you never drink the water."
"Correct."
"What do you eat?" she asked.
"There's actually a garden, fed by the spring. All of the plants are capable of bearing fruit all year, regardless of the season. You haven't, perchance, brought any seeds with you?"
I looked at Nicole, who shook her head, "No, we didn't bring any seeds."
"Oh, that's a shame. The others enjoy bringing different things for me to eat. They take pleasure in providing food, since it's a necessity for me. There is a wondrous variety, but in all honesty, something new would be splendid."
Nicole was curious, "So, you look like you're about twenty years old now; how old were you when you came to the valley? Your father couldn't have left that long ago."
"I was twelve years old when we left Leeds. I turned thirteen years on the journey here. That was in fifty-seven."
"Holy..." Nicole half-exclaimed.
I did the math, "So fifty-seven-- that's forty-three years-- plus another twenty-three, that's sixty-six-- and you were already twelve, so-- you're seventy-eight?!"
Nicole burst out, "Damn! Seventy-eight! You could make a fortune with anti-aging cream!"
"Is it 1923 already?" Rayla asked.
"Ie! Soreha dekimasen!"
The invisible Yun had spoken.
Rayla translated, "It is forbidden to take the water beyond the valley."
"Oh! I wasn't serious," Nicole squirmed, "It was just a joke-- because she looks forty years younger than she actually is..."
"Uh... Nicole," I interrupted, "Did you not hear what Rayla asked?"
"What?"
"She asked if it was 1923-- already."
She thought for a moment and was left just short of speechless. "What?"
I informed our hostess, though I wasn't sure how she'd take it, "Rayla-- you said 'fifty-seven,' did you mean eighteen fifty-seven?"
"Yes, I apologize."
Rayla, the year-- this year-- is 2023."
She was shaken by the news. I thought she'd been taken aback by the lapse of sixty years. To suddenly find out it had actually been one hundred sixty-- she was distraught, to say the least. Her face reflected the realization that everyone she'd known outside of the valley was long gone. Not just her father, her mother, siblings, friends--all surely dead and buried decades ago. She would never go back to them.
She stood up on shaky legs, "I'm sorry-- I'm feeling a bit limpsey-- won't you excuse me for a moment? Yun, would you please show our guests to the garden? I'm sure they're hungry." She wobbled into the hut beside us, groping along the wall and into the doorway. We heard the structure creak as it absorbed her duress within.
I called after her, "Take your time. We're not in any hurry."
We simply followed the sound of what I perceived to be footsteps, though in truth, it might just as well have been a slight breeze.
If not for the bizarre day I'd spent with Thessyna the day before, I imagined I'd be feeling a lot like Nicole must have felt at that moment--unprecedented supernatural circumstances abounding--invisible people, magical healing water, and a one-hundred seventy-eight-year-old woman who looks like a sorority pledge. I wouldn't have blamed her if she packed up and took off running.
I wanted to get as much information as I could before that happened. "Yun, how long have you been here, if it's alright to ask." I felt strange addressing someone who may or may not have even been there.
Luckily, he answered, "Like Rayla, I came here with my father, I was stricken with Smallpox when my family traveled to China from Japan. My father was part of an envoy under Emperor Saga."
"I may need to brush up on my Japanese history. I don't know how long ago Emperor Saga was in power."
Nicole helped, "I know a bit about Chinese history. Which dynasty ruled when you traveled to China?"
"Tang," he answered.
"What?! Are you sure?! I want to say that was like, the eighth or ninth century. That's crazy, Yun. You're probably over a thousand years old! You look like you're maybe seventeen."
"That is surprising. I don't feel that old."
I fumbled for my phone to show him the technology and pictures of cities and people. No service. I asked him, "Yun, why can't people leave the valley after they drink the healing water, is that a policy of the community?"
"When you are finished in the garden, I will show you," he responded.
His answer was so cryptic, I wondered if he'd even heard the question correctly.
Nicole was enthralled with the plant life, "I'm getting kind of a Garden-of-Eden feeling about this place. I mean, think about it. Healing water, never-ending supply of food, plus, mankind was expelled from the garden, right? What if-- what if the invisibility is the expulsion? What if the invisibility and isolation are the punishment for having sneaked back into Eden? Do you have any signal on your phone? Mine's totally useless."
"No, mine's out too. That's an interesting perspective," I replied, "but I'm pretty sure the Garden of Eden would have been somewhere in the Middle East, don't you think?"
"Not necessarily--after the flood, things would have been totally different. Try your phone again."
"No, you're right. I'm not trying to discount that theory, but I'm getting more of a Fountain of Youth vibe," I suggested.
"Fountain of Youth?"
"Yeah, the Fountain of Youth. The Fountain of Youth."
"Wait-- oh man, it's almost there," she said excitedly. "Maybe if you say it like, two or three more times, then I'll know what you're talking about."
"Funny. Yeah, I've still got no bars, no service. So, this explorer, Ponce de Leon, explored the Florida coast looking for the fabled Fountain of Youth, where anyone who drinks the water would have their youth restored. It would heal them of ailments, and in theory, you could live forever."
"The Fountain of Youth," she clarified.
"Yes, the Fountain of Youth."
She paused in thought. "Never heard of it."
"Never heard of the Fountain of Youth-- can you believe these kids today, Yun?"
"I have never heard of it either," he said straightly.
"You both are killing me. Yun, you've been living here for all this time, don't you ever think about what's going on in the rest of the world?"
"No."
I waited for more. "Okay, so, you don't care to ask us anything about-- anything?"
"The last time I left home to find out about the rest of the world, my mother and two brothers died from Smallpox."
"Wait, how do you know it was Smallpox?" Nicole asked. "They wouldn't have called it Smallpox in China or Japan when you were there."
"No, it had no name then-- only the disease of Onryu-- who inflicted his revenge on the living by spreading the disease. It was Hans who told us the English name. He taught all of us English before he returned to the other world. I needed only to describe the blisters, and he knew it immediately. Most of us do not understand the sciences. Rayla and Joseph are far more familiar with such things. Hans was older. He had far more knowledge of technologies."
"Wow, and he lived in the nineteenth century. How did you communicate with him when he and Rayla first arrived? That must have been difficult."
"He spoke German. Joseph spoke German and Dutch and had taught us. If you stay, we will learn more English from you. It is different from that which Hans and Rayla taught. A lot of what you say is gibberish to me," he said, earning a snort from Nicole, "but I am learning. The garden is here."
Sometime mid-day, we reached the boundaries of our destination, and long before Yun could answer our myriad of questions. The oaks grew taller as we neared the garden--as many as twenty meters in height. Fed by the preternatural spring water, everything flourished magnificently. Rayla had called it a garden, but it was more of a grove-- as far as I could see, nut and fruit-bearing trees and bushes, and as Nicole would soon demonstrate, roots and tubers as well.
"This isn't right," Nicole insisted, "these trees shouldn't be planted anywhere near each other. They shouldn't be flourishing like this-- they should be competing for nutrients and killing each other in the process. Is that a Walnut? Look at this-- that's a-- this is a cauliflower!"
Her brain must have been on overload. She knew a lot more about botany than she'd let on. She rushed between plants, astonished by each of them-- a few seconds investigating a patch of this or that, then on to the next.
"Yun, where are you? Are these radishes? I bet these are radishes-- and carrots, and... Oh! Strawberries! These need to be harvested-- they're going to rot on the stems." She plucked a massive, bright red strawberry and lightly brushed it off before taking a bite of it. She practically melted before turning to me. "You have to try this!" she insisted, hurrying back and shoving the huge berry in my face.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Reid! You don't understand-- half of these fruits aren't even in season right now, and some of them shouldn't even be on this continent! Try it! This is impossible!"
"Nic, there's a thousand-year-old, invisible, Japanese man talking to us, and you're bothered about these bushes and trees producing fruit--out of season?"
She put out a palm as if to explain something, but didn't. The palm turned into a pointing finger. "Did you just call me, Nic?"
"I guess so, yeah."
She thought for a few seconds. She drew back her finger. "Huh."
"So, you're good?"
"The only problem I have is you asking me if I'm okay every two minutes."
"Alright, if that's true, I'll stop asking," I replied. "Hey Yun, are you still here, buddy? Répondre pas?! Helloooo?"
He said nothing.
Nicole was listening intently for motion while looking around at the ground for movement. "I guess he went back?"
"I guess so. We didn't really ask him to show us around, did we?"
"So, what is this place?" she asked, as if I knew anything more than she did. "I'm starting to think it's all just some weird elaborate dream."
"Why's that?"
"Uh... because that would explain all the bizarre, impossible things going on here."
"Oh, you meant that, literally. Okay. How would you know, for sure, if it was a dream?"
"I don't know. If I'm dreaming, then everything that's happening is coming out of my head anyway."
I walked up to her and looked at her dead in the eyes and said, "Nicole, I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you."
I did a decent job of keeping a straight face. She burst into laughter and that was the end of my composure.
She snorted, "Nope, not a dream. Definitely not something that would come out of my head. Now I'm pretty sure you're the one who's dreaming."
I brought the conversation back down to Earth, "Well, I'm a pretty big believer in the supernatural and hidden wonders of the world, so I'm not feeling like I'm dreaming. I'm actually starting to like your Garden of Eden theory. I mean, all the pieces fit, and it'd make a helluva news story if you came back with pictures of the actual Garden of Eden."
"That's true, but I'm not a journalist. Besides, we'd never be able to prove it, and even if we could, the last thing I'd want is to start a massive religious migration to come destroy this paradise. I'd still like to get some pics of this place though-- whatever it is. It's absolutely amazing!"
Paradise-- there's that word again.
She looked around for her next edible discovery. "I'm going to go check out-- probably everything," she laughed, "so don't be surprised if I'm fat when I get back."
She wandered off toward-- everything, plucking fruit from some kind of citrus tree and peeling it with her Gerber Strongarm fixed-blade knife. More proof she's the real deal.
Once she'd wandered out of earshot, Yun asked quietly, "Why did you want me to remain silent?"
"I thought, if she believed you were gone, she might feel free to suggest her true intentions."
"I see. And what of your true intentions?"
"I just want to make it out of here alive."
"Mmm... you and all the others."
Part One : theprose.com/post/705387